Finding the way out
by IYH
Summary: HP/SS Slash. The story ignores HBP and DH. It's Harry's seventh year and Dumbledore is determined to protect his mind. Who else would be a better Occlumency teacher than Severus Snape? With the pressure of beating the Dark Lord and the battle between Harry's determination to stay with Ginny and the sexual awakening he experiences, who knows just what might happen…
1. Like Violence

**A/N:** The characters and the universe in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I don't make any money.

And, um, this is my fist fanfiction EVER so this should be fun :D Hope you enjoy. And I'm not a native speaker so sorry about the grammar!

**Summary: **HP/SS Slash. The story ignores HBP and DH. I borrowed some of Snape's memories, though. It's Harry's seventh year and Dumbledore is determined to protect his mind. Who else would be a better Occlumency teacher than Severus Snape? With the pressure of beating the Dark Lord and the battle between Harry's determination to stay with Ginny and the sexual awakening he experiences, who knows just what might happen… though don't we all do ;)

**Chapter 1: Like Violence**

Harry was sweaty.

His head was throbbing, his anger pulsing.

Funny how those two things seem to mix so easily. He was shaking, aching, wanting to throw something at the wall or the man before him.

It had only been the first five minutes of the lesson.

"Giving up already?" The low, mocking snarl seemed to come from inside his head and yet he was sure the words weren't his own.

_Fighting with Dudley as a child_

_Being locked up in the cupboard_

_Hagrid telling him he was a wizard_

Harry panted, struggling to push the man away from his mind, to stop his memories being tossed and turned and made mockery of.

_Peter Pettigrew transforming into a rat and escaping_

_The full moon_

_Sirius at the Ministry_

The mess that was his memories seemed like a blurred show of broken pictures. There was nothing he could do but watch. And sweat.

_The quidditch world cup_

_Playing quidditch with the Weasleys_

_Seeing the Grim on the sky_

There was sweat on Harry's forehead — sweat caused by concentration (or the lack of it).

There was sweat on his memory — sweat caused by an exhausting quiddich game.

There even seemed to be sweat around his brain — sweat caused by the fact that no one other than Severus _bloody fucking _Snape was having fun with Harry's own, private (not anymore, though) memories, turning them like pages of a very open book.

_The cemetery the Ministry his own bed after a bad dream_

_Cedric dead_

_Sirius dead_

_ dead_

_ dead_

Dead.

Except it wasn't a dream.

Everything blurred and Harry felt the sharp pain on his knees as they hit the stone floor of the dungeons. He rubbed his head, opened his eyes and tried to focus his vision. He got up slowly, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"Pathetic, Potter," Snape mocked. "You seem to have gotten even worse. And here I thought it would not be possible. I must have underestimated you when I said your talent in Occlumency was just about as developed as Mr. Longbottom's potions brewing skills."

Harry kept his mouth shut though he was shaking with anger.

_Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in…_

"You certainly are just as arrogant as your father was, not even bothering to answer. Where are your manners, Potter?"

"Don't bring my father into this," Harry hissed between his teeth. "He's got nothing to do with it."

"Defending the _great James Potter_, I see, even though you never knew him."

Harry held his breath for a moment.

_Do NOT explode. Just stay calm. You are above this._

"Tell me, Professor." _I am calm. I am calm. I am calm._ "Do you take pleasure upon inflicting pain on other people," he asked, his voice dead calm.

"Do not overestimate yourself, Potter," Snape spat. "You really are arrogant, thinking I might enjoy this. Trying to teach you night after night only that you can feel sorry for yourself."

"I'm not the one selecting the memories."

"I don't s_elect._ Your worst experiences are on a silver platter. Any half-decent Legilimens could see them."

"And what about your memories," Harry asked before he could stop himself. As the words escaped his lips, he knew he had crossed a line.

_Memories of his mother, happy memories, filled with smiles and laughter_

_Their fingers entwined, their bodies next to each other_

_James Potter_

_Then, later, promising to protect Lily Evans' son_.

Glimpses of what Harry shouldn't have seen, words he shouldn't have heard.

Harry looked at Snape and Snape glared back, black eyes filled with panic and fury. It felt like witnessing something almost as private as the memories that should have remained secret, seeing his professor's almost always so impassive face reflect so many emotions at once.

Harry's heart pounded on his throat. He couldn't look away.

"I shouldn't have…" he began.

"You are dismissed," Snape said quietly.

"But…"

"Out, Potter."

He let himself out quietly, feeling more sad and exhausted than angry.

They had been practicing Occlumency for a couple of months now. Harry had been surprised Snape had agreed to teach him after the… thing… with the Pensieve. Harry hadn't really had any other choice than to agree as well. It had been the only reasonable option as the visions had become so bad the past year.

Snape was vicious but tried to beat Harry to learn Occlumency — Harry knew that.

He knew, too, that he hadn't learnt a thing.

Every time he walked to the classroom, he felt scared beyond what was reasonable. They were only memories, after all.

It didn't feel like _just memories_, though.

It felt like violence.


	2. A Rough Night with Snape

**A/N: **It would be nice to know what you think about the beginning of the story :) I have no idea if this is, well, bullshit :D Anyway, here's the second chapter.

Sorry for the grammar again! :p I keep spotting these idiotic mistakes I make and I HATE to read texts with bad grammar.

* * *

**Chapter 2: A Rough Night with Snape**

Why is it that every time you wish to make time go slower, it starts to go on double-speed?

Harry was sitting on his bed, wondering where the past three months had gone. He had wanted them to go slower, knowing this was his last year at Hogwarts. The seventh year. Oh, how he wished it would never end. Even though his classes didn't feel like luxury (_that's really an understatement, _he thought as the NEWT classes very often _unsuitable for people with normal brain _as Ron had put it), they were that in comparison with what was to come.

Killing Voldemort.

Thinking about Voldemort had once upon a time made him feel furious and broken. Now all he felt was this horrible numbness, cold and paralyzing. Sometimes it got so bad that Harry had to hit or scratch himself, only to feel something — to feel alive.

Harry wanted to savour the moments of his normal life. Well, not quite _normal_, but just… familiar. Being at Hogwarts with his friends and enemies such as Malfoy. Even though the Occlumency lessons were what they were, everything seemed to be OK for the first time in years. School was going tolerably (apart from the said lessons), Ron and Hermione were both happy now that they finally were together (as they had been bickering almost the whole year, Harry had just, well, snapped. He had yelled at them, saying something like: "BLOODY HELL, JUST STOP FIGHTING AND START FUCKING, AS YOU BOTH _OBVIOUSLY _WANT TO DO SO!" And though he had apologized afterwards, it had worked. Ron and Hermione had finally "talked about their feelings" like Hermione said or in Ron's words "ohmygodIdidn'tknowsnoggingwouldbesogoodIthinkwe'r etogethernow" and now it seemed that they had found their happily ever after.), Dobby was working in the castle and visiting Harry quite often, always bringing butterbeer with him. And no-one seemed to hate Harry much these days — quite the opposite, really. Not that he liked being called The Chosen One or being in the center of attention but he had got used to it by now.

And now there was Ginny.

Ginny with her long red hair and her kick-ass personality and her Weasley-grin. It was the first time Harry had someone to be so close with. Ginny was like a warm blanket wrapping around Harry, her fingers on his skin familiar and comforting. Sometimes she even made Harry forget about Voldemort — for just a second or so — but it was all worth it. Being with Ginny was good.

It was good, alright.

Holding her felt good. Kissing her felt OK. It was funny, though, that while Ginny seemed to be quite keen on the latter, Harry found kissing rather… amusing. (He would never say this out loud, though.) Harry had a vague idea that it wasn't supposed to feel funny. It was supposed to feel…_ hot_. Well, it didn't, and so Harry didn't love the idea of doing anything more. He should have, though. He loved Ginny, didn't he? But the thought of _fucking _her… _Merlin, no_, Harry thought. Maybe he just needed more time. He wasn't ready. Yes, that had to be it. He only needed more time.

Sometimes Harry found himself questioning this thing he and Ginny had. Sometimes it led to horrifying thoughts about breaking up and so Harry repeatedly told his thoughts to keep quiet. Harry didn't think about those dreams that left him aching with need, dreams that embarrassed and intrigued him. Ginny was never a part of them — no girl was. But it was right to be with Ginny. It was safe.

That had to do.

"Harry c'mon, we're missing breakfast," Ron said.

"What," Harry said, snapping back to reality. "Um, yeah, let's go."

They walked down to the Great Hall where Harry took his usual seat next to Ginny and opposite Ron and Hermione. He kissed Ginny quickly and yawned.

"Had a rough night?" Hermione asked compassionately.

"Always is with him," harry mumbled.

Ron snickered.

"What," Harry said, reaching for pumpkin juice. He took a sip.

"Well, just… rough night… with Snape," Ron said, now roaring with laughter.

Harry spit out his pumpkin juice, turning positively red.

"Well ha-ha," Hermione said dryly though she couldn't quite hold back her smile.

"And here I thought you were _my _boyfriend," Ginny teased.

"Sorry, sis," Ron said, "you don't stand a chance against the greasy git!"

They both laughed.

"Please just _stop_," Harry said desperately, blushing more by the minute. "He can see _all_ my memories, remember?"

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, though still smiling.

"He's gonna kill me. It's a wonder he hasn't done it yet."

"Professor Snape is just trying to teach you…" Hermione began with her Head Girl -voice.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "I should be grateful. What's on the Prophet?"

They began commenting on the articles and stated, again, that the magazine was basically bullshit. Harry let them talk while sipping his juice. His eyes darted to the direction of the staff table. There was Dumbledore, McGonagall… and Snape.

Harry thought about what Ron had said. A rough night with Snape… The Potions Master looked dignified and impassive as always, sipping his tea. _Is he really always so cold, _Harry thought. And then: _I wonder what he looks like when…_ _What the HELL am I thinking about!? _Harry blushed and turned his head away.

He returned to the conversation that was now about the Quibbler and said things like _yeah, it's rubbish _and _how can they possibly claim that The Leaky Cauldron is actually built of dragons' bones _and_ Rita Skeeter should work at the Quibbler — her articles are as bad as the one that said that Dumbledore imports Erumpent horns._

By their first lesson Harry had forgotten his disturbing thoughts of the Potions Master and was trying to transfigure his own nose. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure his transfiguration skills were so good that he should've been transfiguring himself but nevertheless he tried.

His nose remained the same.

* * *

Severus Snape had a headache. He couldn't help thinking about last night, thinking about Potter.

_The bloody idiot has no skills whatsoever._

He was sitting on his chair, looking the third years brewing and slicing and smashing. Normally he would have paced among them, commenting or insulting. Now he just sat, watching the class.

_They would make better Occlumentes than Potter._

It was strange, really, that after two months of practicing, the boy had not learnt a thing. Well, Severus had not wished that Potter would have been _good _at Occlumency. Still, he had expected that the idiotic boy would have learnt something.

Severus knew Potter was trying. He knew that mastering one's mind was never easy. He even knew it probably would not hurt to be a bit more… supportive. _I'm not going to cuddle the arrogant idiot, _he thought, dismissing the idea.

Still, he wanted Potter to learn. It was vital. He was Lily's son, after all, Severus had no pleasure in… _inflicting pain on others_, as the boy had said. He recalled watching Potter's lips as the words came out, then watching the green eyes.

He had wanted to yell.

For a moment, he had wanted to just say: "I don't want you to suffer."

It would not have helped, though.

He thought about the green eyes. They weren't Lily's eyes as he had once thought. There was too much pain, too much everything. It was hard to look Potter in the eye and hard not to.

He heard a laughter and a desperate moan.

_What the hell am I thinking about?_

He turned his attention back to the class, seeking for the source of the moan. Severus could not help smirking when he noticed the situation.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw," he said to the desperate-looking girl. Her potion had turned into something solid and orange. "Now clean up that mess."

Severus decided to focus on the class completely and stop thinking about Potter's eyes or idiocy.


	3. About the Killing Part

**A/N:** So here's the third chapter. I hope you like :) P.S. Reviews would be more than welcome !

And there might be things borrowed from the last two books but otherwise the story ignores them :)

* * *

**Chapter 3: "About the Killing Part..."**

It was time for another Occlumency lesson. Harry was walking towards the dungeons, going to face the unavoidable. He had to do this, he had to learn. He just had no idea, how.

He knocked on the door.

"Enter," said the cold, calm voice.

Harry wondered if Snape was mad after their last lesson.

_Of course he is. He's always mad at me._

"Good evening, professor," Harry said. He tried to act politely during these lessons. He hadn't cared before — now he did. He didn't know why, though. What he knew was that Snape made it almost impossible.

Snape nodded. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, though he wasn't.

"Legilimens."

Snape's eyes were pools of black, pushing into Harry's mind. Harry tried to resist, he really did. It didn't help.

_Looking at Ginny and Dean and wishing for them to break up_

_Kissing Ginny_

Harry pushed back but it didn't help. Snape was inside his head and he could see e_verything._

There were black eyes and fragments of a fresh, new memory.

_Oh God, no_, Harry thought as he recognized the memory. It was too late, though, as the memory played itself without any shame. Snape took a hold of it, not letting it slip away and be replaced by something else. Harry was sure Snape could feel his embarrassment.

"_Well, just… rough night… with Snape," Ron said, now roaring with laughter._

_Harry spit out his pumpkin juice, turning positively red._

_"Well ha-ha," Hermione said dryly though she couldn't quite hold back her smile._

_"And here I thought you were my boyfriend," Ginny teased._

_"Sorry, sis," Ron said, "you don't stand a chance against the greasy git!"_

_They both laughed._

_"Please just stop," Harry said desperately, blushing more by the minute. "He can see all my memories, remember?"_

_"Sorry, mate," Ron said, though still smiling._

_"He's gonna kill me. It's a wonder he hasn't done it yet."_

_The others continuing their conversation as Harry looked at his professor and blushed_

Harry knew his knees hit the floor before he could feel it.

"Of, fuck," he growled before he could stop himself. It hurts to fall and fall and fall yet again on one's bruised knees.

"Language, Mr. Potter."

Harry got up, not wanting to look at Snape. He had to, though, and there was an amused smirk on his teacher's face.

Harry blushed and Snape's smirk grew even wider.

Harry felt shivers on his back.

"I'm sorry about their behavior," Harry mumbled, blushing further.

"No need to blush, Mr. Potter." Snape sounded smug.

"I'm not blushing," Harry said.

"You most certainly are."

Harry stared at Snape, cheeks flushed. He didn't answer.

"It was, ah, a _rough night_, indeed."

It would have sounded flirtatious if Snape hadn't mocked him. _What am I thinking? He's a sadistic old git who likes to torture people!_

Snape had an evil look in his eyes.

"About the killing part… However appealing the thought of it might be, I am not going to kill you. Not after wasting so much time by teaching you. Now, let's continue."

The rest of the lesson went as always — Harry not knowing how to defend himself from the attacks, Snape losing his temper. They snapped at each other and tried again, then snapped a bit more.

Harry was exhausted when he went back to the dormitory. The lesson hadn't been as awful as it could have. Somehow Harry didn't even feel angry at Snape. It was strange, really. After understanding that Snape had really loved his mum, Harry had begun to respect his teacher more. Snape had sacrificed everything — his whole life — to protect Harry. Snape was a good man, a brave man, a broken man, no doubt.

_I'm thinking about him way too much these days._

_I hope he can't read my thoughts._

Harry fell asleep, hoping that he wouldn't have any visions that night.

* * *

Sometimes Severus Snape wished his subconscious would shut up. It had this habit of bringing absurd thoughts to his conscious mind when least wanted.

_The boy looks good when he is blushing._

There it was, the idiotic comment that he wanted to disagree with. _Potter does not look good, _he thought. There was a nagging comment from his subconscious.

And so what if he did? He was the son of Lily Potter. Lily had been beautiful.

_Doesn't mean that Potter is._

It was horrible to think about something like that — even for a brief moment. Potter was the most annoying prat Severus had ever met. He was arrogant and stupid and incapable of learning anything.

Still, he could not quite say that he hated Potter anymore. Not to himself, anyway.

He supposed it was because of the fact that he had watched the boy so closely for years now, always trying to protect him. There had to be some kind of… attachment. Familiarity, at least. Severus Snape was no fool. He was not above being human. Humans care about each other — that was a rather unfortunate fact in his opinion. He knew the Potter brat meant something to him, if not much. Still, it was important to see him succeed.

He did not want to fear for the boy but he did.

He would never show it, though.

_I'm not the one to hold his hand, _he thought, fetching a bottle of firewhisky. As the liquid burnt his throat pleasantly, Severus began to relax.


	4. Dreaming of Pain

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews! :) I love to hear what you think about the story. More of them would be welcome, though ;)

* * *

**Chapter 4: Dreaming of Pain**

Why did there always have to be torture?

Torture and pain and the sick, pulsing joy of inflicting it.

The walls and ceiling were whiter than snow, the floor made of dark wood. There were no colors, only shadows and ragged breathing and pressure and fear.

"My Lord," said the man shaking on the floor. "Have mercy, my Lord."

"What is there to be merciful about, Avery?" Harry's voice was high-pitched and unnaturally cold. He watched the man's face. It was tired and lined and reflecting the beautiful suffering. He loved to watch their faces as he cast the spell, seeing the pain and fear and respect written all over them.

"I did my best, my Lord."

Oh, how it felt good to see the fear. He felt the power rushing inside his veins. Fear was the purest form of power. He could almost live of it.

Still, the pathetic limp on the floor made his anger rise, if just a bit.

"Your _best _is not enough," Harry said quietly.

"I know it, my Lord. I will try harder." There were tears on the man's face.

Harry felt a smile threatening his face.

"You will, Avery. I will be merciful this time. You do understand that the second chance will be your last one, don't you?"

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord."

Harry looked at the man. His eyes were filled with pain and terror. Harry let the smile settle on his face. He was in control — Avery should remember it.

He was above them all.

"Crucio," he said and the word was like a poem in itself, like a beautiful chant. It was power — he knew — and he was the one speaking, the one holding all the cards.

The screams coming from Avery's mouth made shivers run on his back.

* * *

Severus was too tired to speak.

He was too tired to eat or to take his clothes off. He was almost too tired to even breathe.

There was still pain, if only a little. That was not the thing that bothered him, though. He felt sick — like always after the meetings. Sick and dirty and broken and suffocated.

Once upon a time he had been so brave. He had known what to do and done it without questioning. He had acted like a good double agent, like a good boy.

_Well done, my boy_.

There had always been sorrow in Albus' eyes. Sorrow and pity — well, not pity, maybe, but something that resembled pity enough.

For Severus, there was only pain.

He did not want to do it anymore. There were days when it felt like he could not. From time to time he felt like he was just ruins. Sometimes he felt the ruins collapsing.

Then he would go to Albus and they would talk.

Or Erika. Erika was a muggle-born witch, a couple of years older than Severus, teaching Muggle Studies. She was not clever the way that Granger girl was but in a way that so often mattered more. Erika understood people.

Like Severus, she had suffered too much too soon. She knew pain.

Severus could talk about it with her. Somehow during all these horrible years, they had become quite close. They would often drink red wine or firewhisky and listen to old records, talking and talking and talking.

They would laugh out the pain. Sometimes they would just lie next to each other, not speaking. There had never been anything sexual between them — in fact, they were both gay — but it felt good to be close to her anyway.

After nights like these, however, Severus would go straight to Albus. If he wanted to talk, that is. Albus' words would sooth Severus' feelings or make them explode and Severus would cry or yell and sometimes even have mad fits of laughter. It was a good thing to have a friend like Albus, for that is what he was. A friend. He was Severus' employer as well, as he was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the leader of the Order. There was no one that understood Severus like Albus. That did not mean, however, that the old man understood everything.

Tonight Severus did not feel like talking to Albus. He needed to be alone and think. Or rather, _not _think. He summoned a bottle of firewhisky and fell on the couch. He drank straight from the bottle and wished for oblivion. _I drink much these days, _he thought but did not care enough to put the bottle away.

His thoughts were too hard to cope with. There had been moments of doubt and unsureness before as well, of course there had been. Just not like this, not so that he had really began questioning everything he was useful for.

Severus would do anything for Albus.

He would die for him.

He would kill for him.

He just was not sure if he could do this anymore.

Watching and enduring and inflicting suffering. Planning for the benefit of the man (no — he was not a man — he was something much less and something much more evil in so many ways) he hated more than anything in the world. It was not easy to conceal his feelings of hatred and disgust. Oh, how he hated working for him ("Voldemort," he said out loud, just this once, almost waiting for something to happen), hated being his lapdog. Oh, how much he hated himself for doing the things he was told to do.

_I would hate myself so much more if I quit doing it. It's all I'm worth._

Severus let the liquid flow into his throat, trying not to swallow.

_What if I killed myself?_

He began to cough and stood up to put the bottle away.

Then he laughed until the rough sounds he made turned into quiet sobbing.

He was quite certain he could hear his tears smashing to the floor.

* * *

Harry woke up, feeling pain and terror. He tried to replay the vision he had seen.

There had been someone — Avery — on the floor. He hadn't managed to do something — but what?

Harry rubbed his head. His scar was still hurting. He tried to remember but the dream was already slipping away.

There had been torture — yes. That was not unusual.

And there had been Snape. Harry remembered this, though he didn't really know, why. Or _how_, for that matter. Hadn't they been wearing masks? Harry wasn't sure anymore. He didn't remember.

What he did remember, though, was Snape.

Eyes open and black, mouth in a thin line. Nothing out of the ordinary in that, just how his facial muscles had clenched and how there had been pain so deep it had looked like the lines on Snape's face had been carved by a knife or something worse.

There had been agony unknown to Harry on Snape's face.

It had to have happened before Avery had been tortured. Or after. Harry couldn't quite figure it out and as he tried to fall asleep, the image haunted him. Later, then, as sleep forced its way to Harry, the dreams were violent and shattered, like some horrible, twisted collection of short stories, knitted together hastily.

As Harry woke up in the morning, the only thing he remembered was black eyes, usually so beautiful and brave, now full of terror and despair.

_I've got to see him_, Harry thought, though he couldn't quite figure out why. Then, he corrected his thoughts. _His eyes are NOT beautiful._


	5. A Gift from Bhutan

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! They definitely made me smile :) I'd love to hear some critique, as well. If there's something I could do better, feel free to point out :) (I'm sure there's loads of stuff)

LM Ryder the Batty Bat: I had this problem with the plural of the word "Occlumens" and as I researched, I found this essay (that I can't seem to link here — _fucking hell, _this Doc Manager is stupid — but it was in LJ and the topic was _Latin Plurals _and it was written by psychic_serpent) and thought it was brilliant. That's why there's the _Occlumentes :)_

* * *

**Chapter 5: A gift from Bhutan**

Harry sat down, looking around.

"Morning, Harry," Ginny said, kissing him briefly.

"Morning," Harry said and managed a small smile.

"Tired?"

"Uh-huh."

His eyes sought the staff table but Ginny was on his way.

"Harry, take this," Hermione said, handing him a glass of pumpkin juice. "And for Merlin's sake, eat something!"

Harry took the offered juice and turned around to look at the table again.

"Yeah, mate," Ron said, "you should eat. I think you've gotten quite skinny lately."

"You've been looking?"

"Oh, shut up, Ginny, I'm just concerned."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm just tired," Harry said, finally finding what he was looking for. He let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"What are you looking at," Ginny asked.

"Nothing," Harry answered with a smile.

He didn't know why he felt so relieved — happy, even. He just knew it felt good to see Snape there, safe, though grumpy as always. He looked tired but not in pain.

"Dumbledore's bought a new hat," he added.

"Wow," commented Ron. "Dumbledore's got balls, wearing a hat like that!"

"Ron!"

"Sorry, 'Mione."

"I love the print," Ginny commented happily.

"Me too," Harry said and chuckled.

The hat was really something — it was bright orange and yellow and had a dragon printed on it. Dumbledore seemed excited about it, too. As he realized Harry and the others were looking at it, he winked.

* * *

"What do you think about my new hat, Severus?"

"It is very… colorful," Severus said. "A present from Bhutan?"

"Ah," Albus said happily, "I didn't realize you are familiar with flags."

"I consider it basic knowledge."

The old wizard smiled. "It was a gift from an old friend."

"I did not know you two still…"

"Well, it's rather complicated, my dear boy. Like I told you, we are friends these days."

That got Severus thinking about something. So Albus was still (at least) friends with his ex-lover (or maybe not so _ex_, after all) and how old was he? Well, _old_. When had Severus ever had a decent lover?

_A decent lover, _he thought. _You must be joking._

There had been many men in Severus' past. Passionate lovers and emotional ones. There had been lovers who had wanted love in return for enjoyable time and lovers who had wanted nothing more than sex. Severus had liked some of them, some of them not.

But loved? No, never.

During all his lonely years he had begun questioning his ability to love romantically.

He had felt butterflies in his stomach when he had still been young. He had felt mild pain that distantly resembled heartache. He had missed some of his lovers and cried for one or two. But love was supposed to be something mind-blowing and all-consuming — something bigger than life.

_I sound like a pathetic closet-romantic. I must stop this._

_There is no love for me._

He had gone through too much. There would be no such stupid thing for him as a _soulmate. How I hate that word, _he thought. All of sudden, Severus felt very old and bitter.

And on top of everything, he had to teach Potter Occlumency — yet again.

* * *

"Concentrate, Potter."

Harry was panting, his knees hurting (again). There he was, trying to learn Occlumency (again), only to fail miserably (again).

"I can't do it," he said. It felt bad to say the words.

"That is a pathetic excuse, Potter," snarled Snape between gritted teeth. "You're not trying."

"I am, professor," Harry said, his voice a tad too loud.

"You are not. Again."

Harry took a deep breath.

"Legilimens."

Snape's eyes were so very, very black as they sought their way into Harry's mind.

_Vernon's twisted face yelling "you're a freak"_

_Aunt Marge talking about his parents_

_The dementors attacking him and Dudley_

Then, quickly

_A skinny boy with hooked nose trying not to hear his parents screaming_

_Bruises on the skin of now a bit older Severus_

_A teenage boy, scratching his skin open_

These were only brief, blurred flashes that Harry saw. His own memories were still there, though, much more visible than his professor's.

_Dementors_

_Cold and alone_

_Screaming screaming screaming_

_Try harder, _Harry heard the voice say, and it felt as if the words were coming from inside his head. He could almost feel the voice vibrating, humming a bit. It felt peculiar and _warm _in a way. Intimate but not threatening. It wasn't a bad feeling.

Harry felt he was falling but his knees didn't hit the ground.

_White walls_

_White ceiling_

_Dark wooden floor_

_ragged breathing and pressure and fear._

It was warm and soft and not even a real place. It was more like a feeling located somewhere so deep that Harry had only captures glimpses of it before. It felt like warm shivers, like a caress. The memory didn't feel threatening, not even bad. Harry could see the images but didn't quite concentrate on them. He felt so safe somehow, harbored in a way.

Snape dig deeper and Harry didn't even try to stop him.

_A man on the ground_

_"My Lord. Have mercy, my Lord."_

_"What is there to be merciful about, Avery?"_

Harry was still falling, Snape digging even deeper into his mind.

_Black eyes full of agony so real that there was nothing else in the word_

_Black eyes full of agony so real_

_Black eyes full of ag-_

Black.

Pain on Harry's knees and cold, so cold. Snape was suddenly very far away and Harry was very aware of it. He felt empty somehow, very bare and… embarrassed. _Why, though?_ But it had felt so good in that place — there was no word to describe that feeling. And it was taken away very suddenly. Harry felt somewhat used.

_Don't be an idiot._

But there had been comfort. Or it had _felt _like comfort. Now there were only questions as those black eyes searched green ones.

"What was that about, Potter," Snape asked. Did Harry imagine it or was his voice shaking just a little?

"Um, a vision. Last night."

"I know. You are supposed to block those."

"I know. And I try, really."

"You should try harder." Snape's voice was very tired.

"Yeah. But did you… um, are you all right," Harry mumbled. Suddenly it felt very important to ask. "You probably think I'm an idiot, telling you this, but, um, I was… quite worried. About you, that is." He felt his cheeks burn brightly.

For a moment Snape didn't say anything. Harry felt really small. He couldn't really bring himself to look the older wizard in the eye.

As Snape spoke, his voice was very soft, like a whisper. Harry could barely hear it.

"You dreamt of me."

Harry blushed.

_STOP BLUSHING, DAMN IT, _he commanded himself.

"Um, well, yeah."

Harry peeked up carefully. Snape wore a strange expression, not quite looking at Harry but more like looking _through_ him. Then, as Snape's eyes focused on Harry's, he seemed to come back to reality.

"Learn to block the visions." His voice was harsh and a bit strangled.

"I try, sir," Harry said, looking at the man. _Totally impassive, again._

"Legilimens."

Harry fell straight into that place again. He wanted to close his eyes but Snape's were very demanding.

Harry tried to focus but truth be told, he really quite liked the new experience.

_You are not trying, Potter._

The words echoed inside Harry. He pushed and pushed and pushed again but he felt like he was drowning or falling even deeper and all he really knew was that Snape's eyes really were quite beautiful in a curious way. They were not like Ginny's, not like Cho's, not like Ron's or Dumbledore's or anyone else's.

_Stop thinking about me._

That made the connection break but not because Harry had broken it. He felt like he had broken his both knees, though.

"This has to stop, Potter." Snape's voice was ice. Harry flinched though he didn't know why.

Harry's head spun. He felt exposed and empty again. And somehow it felt like it was Snape's fault. He didn't answer; he just stared at Snape partly angry and otherwise just… confused.

"What the hell was that," he asked dumbly.

"Language, Mis-"

"Yeah, well, sorry about that, _professor_," Harry snapped. "Could you explain now, please?"

"And why should I explain anything as you cannot even listen to a single sentence?"

"Because I want to know," Harry said. "That was… um, it was… well, strange, to say the least."

"You are not blocking me."

"I try," Harry insisted.

"We will talk about it later. You are dismissed."

* * *

Severus watched the boy open the door, mumble a quick "_good night, professor_" and leave.

He kept on watching the door for quite some time, not knowing, why.

Severus knew about connections that might form between two people working with mind-magic. Still, he had not been prepared for… that.

_It felt good._

He could still almost feel Potter's mind, the unsureness, the… what, eagerness, maybe, that had touched his own mind gently.

He could _almost _still feel it. Except he couldn't.

It had been comforting, inviting, intimate.

_It is inappropriate. Even thinking about it is inappropriate._

He tried to stop thinking about the event. His mind drifted to his own memories, instead. It was strange, really, that their memories had surfaced at the same time. It had not been the first time, though.

_He knows too much about me, S_everus thought. _He knows about my parents, about the fucked-up childhood I had. Why the hell does Albus not let me use the Pensieve this time? _The brat had even seen Severus hurting himself. Hurting himself… that had been a habit when Severus had been younger. Severus was happy it was not anymore.

From time to time, though, there was a temptation.

Pain could feel so good. Not Cruciatus kind of curse, it was… too much. And even it could not bring the oblivion that pain had used to — not as Severus had to keep his mind in control even when tortured. If he did not — well, he would be dead. At least.

The Dark Lord was a respectable Legilimens.

Severus thought about talking with Erika but she would probably be asleep already.

Severus thought about talking with Albus but he would probably be insufferable with the twinkling eyes and sly smiles that were masked to be mildly surprised.

Frustrated, he summoned a bottle of Dreamless Sleep and drank it. He made it to his bedroom just in time.


	6. The Realization

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the reviews! :) They made me update this story so soon again. (I'm not sure if it was a good idea, though — I have this annoying stomach flu that does nothing good to my concentration.) Please keep on reviewing; your comments make my day!

risi: I'm not telling yet, you have to keep on reading to find out ;) And I love to hear you like my story!

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Realization**

Harry played the Quidditch game of the day on his head again and again and again. God, it had felt good to fly! With all the stress, he had really needed some no-thinking time, and Quidditch was the perfect form of it.

Gryffindor had won, Slytherin had lost.

Harry thought about catching the snitch, about the magnificent feeling that no other feeling in the world could match.

He should have thought about something else, however. He felt Ginny's lips against his own, Ginny's hands around his neck, Ginny's body pressing against his. But he wanted to think about Quidditch.

_God, this is wrong_**.**

Harry held Ginny close to him, not quite knowing what to do. He didn't want to move his hands. He didn't want to… touch Ginny more than necessary.

_It's strange — I used to like this. _

To be honest, he had never really loved sharing this kind of intimacy with Ginny but it had felt good to be close to her — hearing her heartbeat, feeling the warmth of her skin. Harry had never felt… passionate about her. He had merely felt comforted. And Ginny was safe, she was a friend. More than a friend, really.

Now all that Harry felt was an urge to escape.

Suddenly Ginny pulled away.

"Harry, I-" she began but stopped herself.

"What," Harry asked.

"Never mind," she said, shaking her head. "It's getting late. I think… I think I'll go to sleep now. Good night."

"Good night," Harry said, watching her leave.

She didn't look cheerful as she usually did, Harry noticed. Her shoulders slouched and her grin wasn't on its place. S_he's not happy, _Harry thought. _I wonder if it's because of me._ He didn't want to ask, though. He knew he wasn't much of a good boyfriend these days. The thing was, he knew he couldn't be more and, to his horror, he realized that maybe he didn't even want to.

He took out his homework and began writing a potions essay. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

His dreams were full of shadows and too familiar voices, full of masked faces, and then, later, there was a distant memory of a comforting, warm feeling that washed away the visions.

* * *

Severus had used to be a morning person. These days, however, had had noticed that he was nothing of the sort.

Mornings felt like the Cruciatus curse. Minus the pain, that is. Still, it was very, very bad. He was tired and in a bad mood. Not that it was anything unusual, but still. _Maybe it is the winter, _he thought as he stepped inside the Potions classroom.

He lectured and told about the potion the class was to brew and watched them work.

His eyes drifted to Potter. Severus still felt very uncomfortable about their last Occlumency lesson.

_Leave it to me to feel uncomfortable about the only thing that has felt comfortable in such a long time._ Then he thought: _Don't overthink it. As a matter of fact, do not think about it — AT ALL._

Still, he could not help glancing at the brat now and then. And then, just when Severus was about to comment on Draco's potion, Potter looked up. Their eyes locked and for a moment Severus felt something like warm shivers on his back. He could not look away.

Then the boy smiled.

_He knows what I'm thinking about. He's thinking about it, too._

Somehow Severus knew it was true. He felt a ghost of a smile threatening his lips but he managed to fight it away. Instead of answering the smile, he raised one eyebrow to say: _Get back to work. _

Potter quickly did but Severus couldn't help noticing that the boy blushed ever so slightly.

* * *

The whole day had been a haze, like fog that couldn't quite be caught. There had been Potions and Transfiguration and Defence, Harry remembered, but couldn't remember what they had been talking about during the lessons.

His Potions essay had been a mess — only half written and _horribly inadequate, _as Snape had pointed out.

"Merlin, I'm tired," Ron yawned all of sudden. "I wish it was Christmas already."

_Christmas holidays begin next week_, Harry realized. They were in Gryffindor Common Room, sitting beside the fire. It was late and almost everyone had gone to sleep. Time had flown past Harry — again. With all the Quidditch practices, NEWT lessons and Occlumency training, it was no wonder. Ginny was sitting on his lap, grinning like an idio- _What's my problem? She's my girlfriend!_ Somehow Harry found Ginny rather… irritating these days. She was talking about stupid things in a stupid way.

_Why can't she just shut up already?_

Harry shouldn't have been this anxious about the holidays. He had been invited to spend the Christmas at the Burrow and all. He was excited about this, of course he was, but still... What if Ginny would want to… _eh_, do more? _Why can't I want her? WHY? _Harry's mind drifted back to one very vivid dream. There had been a gorgeous, tall man with a gorgeous, long—_OH GOD, I'M GAY. _The thought felt like falling into iced water. It felt like, well, like the truth. _Gay. I haven't thought myself as gay. Am I really gay? _No, maybe not. Bisexual? _Hmm, maybe_. _This is not the time to think about this,_ Harry told himself. _The holidays will be just fine — no, great._ And under Mrs. Weasley's watching eyes they wouldn't probably even have a chance to do anything, he reassured himself. No need to worry…

"Harry," Ginny snapped all of sudden. "Are you even listening?"

"Hmm, what? Sorry, I'm tired." Harry yawned.

"As always," Ginny answered. Harry could tell she was annoyed.

"Well, yeah, maybe I am," he snapped back. "Try having NEWT classes and studying Occlumency at the same time. And oh, I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT VOLDEMORT!"

Ron and Ginny were both staring at him wide-eyed.

"I didn't mean…"

"Well, yeah, sure."

"I have to… you know… I forgot… um, the dormitory," Ron mumbled and left, clearly wanting to give them some space to talk privately.

Neither Harry nor Ginny said anything.

"Look, it's just that you've been so… distant… lately," Ginny said.

"I know," Harry answered.

"That's your answer?"

"What do you want me to say, then," Harry asked.

There were tears of anger in Ginny's eyes.

"I shouldn't need to ask for it."

"No, you shouldn't," Harry agreed.

"We worked so well as friends," she said and left to the girls' dormitory.

Harry knew he should have tried to stop her.

He didn't. He merely sat on the chair, staring at the fire.

_Maybe it's for the best if we break up…_

Suddenly a loud _POP_ brought him back to reality. It was Dobby, holding a letter with a wide smile on his face.

"Harry Potter sir," the elf winced, bowing. "It's very good to see you, sir!"

"Um, likewise," Harry muttered and Dobby's grin grew even wider.

"Dobby has a letter from the Headmaster," he said, holding out the letter.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, smiling.

"Dobby must go now, Harry Potter, but we is seeing soon!" He bowed again and disapparated quickly.

_What's this about, _Harry thought as he opened the letter. The message was short and didn't reveal much.

_Harry, come to see me in my office as soon as possible._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I like almond chocolate._

Harry got up immediately and walked out of the dormitory, through the Gryffindor Common Room and to the corridors. _What does Dumbledore want to tell me?_ He felt a little excited but worried, too. It wasn't said that the news would be good.

* * *

Severus Snape was furious.

_Why is it that Albus always comes up with the most idiotic ideas? And why can I never say no to him? _He knew why, though. He owed his life for the man. And more importantly, he did not want to turn down Albus' wishes. The old man was just far too important to Severus.

Right now, they were sitting at the Headmaster's office and Severus was glancing at the older man rather furiously.

"Cheer up now, my dear boy. Don't be so bitter about this. Maybe a lemon drop would make you feel better?"

The man was insufferable, alright. Not as insufferable as Potter, though. Severus groaned at the thought. Why did this have to happen? Teaching Harry _sodding _Potter for the whole holidays was not what Severus had had in mind when he had come to talk to Albus about their not-making-any-progress-situation.

"No, thank you," he said.

Just a moment later he heard the boy walk into the room.

"Harry, my dear boy," Albus greeted cheerily.

"Hello, um, professors," the boy answered awkwardly.

Severus merely rolled his eyes.

"Would you like some tea," Albus asked. "Or maybe a lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," the boy said.

"Well, then. Just sit down. The reason I asked you to accompany me and professor Snape is that it would be most important that you should learn Occlumency."

"I… um, am trying to," the boy said nervously. He glanced at Severus. Severus glanced back impassively.

"It seems you two have had some… obstacles (both Severus and Potter snorted at this) in the past but it is vital that you learn to shield your mind against Voldemort's, Harry. Professor Snape has already agreed to teach with a bit different…"

"It won't work!"

Though Severus found the boy's behavior (and, to be honest, his sheer existence) irritable, he could not have agreed more. I would not work.

"It will," Albus said, smiling. "If you both try hard enough. And try to respect each other a bit more. Like I was about to say, professor Snape has agreed to try a different method."

Severus bit back a snarky comment about Potter's arrogance and lack of talent. He knew Albus would not approve.

"Um, what kind of method?"

"You will have plenty of time to discuss it," Albus said cheerily.

"I guess we could try that," Potter said suspiciously.

Severus sighed. Albus looked sternly at him.

"We will make it work," was all that Severus could say.

"That's settled, then," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. "We have considered that it would be most beneficial that you would stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas, Harry."

"But Ron's invited me to the Burrow," the boy began.

"Ah yes," Albus said. "I'm afraid that visit must be cancelled. The wards at the Burrow are nothing compared to the ones at Hogwarts. The reason for my concern, however, is your transportation to the Burrow. This is why it would be better if you stayed here."

"Alright," the boy sighed. "I understand."

"We'll be training from 10 am," Severus said. "You will have a free weekend."

Potter's face fell a little. "How long will we be training, sir," he asked.

"Until I say so," Severus answered.

Potter sighed again.

"It's good to see you both so co-operative," Albus said.

Severus merely glared at him.

* * *

**A/N **(again :p)**:** I didn't particularly like this chapter myself — I hope it wasn't boring. It would be nice to know what you thought about it. (I'm so repeating myself, got to stop this! :-D)


	7. The New Method

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! :)

risi: Yeah, Harry's still a bit confused. Now both Ginny and Harry will have the time to think about their relationship and... I'm not telling anything yet! ;)

Guest: Haha, I agree! I have a bit of an issue with the chapter lengths, some of them just turn out short and some of them, well, never-ending :D I'm trying to balance them, but I just can't seem to do it.

* * *

**Chapter 7: The New Method**

Harry was nervous. No — that was an understatement. Harry was — what? — horrified, maybe. It was time for their first Occlumency lesson with the _new method_ and he was reluctantly walking towards the dungeons.

Ginny had been sorry to hear the news. Harry wasn't excited about them either but somehow he found that he felt quite… relieved, actually. Not about the time he would have to spend with Snape but about that he wouldn't have to spend with Ginny. He felt bad about feeling that way but couldn't really help it. They hadn't talked much after the awkward fight and Harry couldn't bring himself to apologize. He should have wanted to.

"Oh no, Harry," Ron had said as he had told about his Christmas-to-be. "I'm so sorry mate. It's fucked up that you have to spend your holiday with the greasy git!"

"Ron!" Hermione had snapped. "It's important that Harry finally learns Occlumency!"

"Yeah," Harry had said. "Hope it wouldn't be with Snape, though."

"We should stay, too," Hermione had said.

"No, you shouldn't," Harry had answered. "I'm gonna practice the whole time anyway. You should go."

Ron and Hermione had agreed reluctantly.

Snape had been abnormally cool during their discussion. He hadn't insulted Harry in any way — he hadn't really even spoken to Harry. It was disturbing, really. On top of that, Harry had begun thinking about the thing with Pensieve. It haunted him. Why hadn't he apologized for it before? It was so stupid. He didn't want Snape to think he didn't regret the thing.

_Maybe I should apologize._

The thought made Harry feel even more terrified. Snape would be nasty and cruel and insulting. _That's nothing unusual, though_, he thought and decided to start with and apology.

As he knocked the door of Snape's office, the door opened. Harry stepped inside, still worried about what was to come.

"Well, well, well" he heard a silky smooth voice greet him, "if it is not the savior of the wizarding world."

"Good evening, sir," Harry said. He wanted to keep his temper under control. "I wanted to… um, I mean… I want to apologize for invading your privacy in fifth year. It was wrong and I'm sorry though I know you won't believe it, sir," Harry blurted. That was not how he had planned to apologize.

Snape smirked. "That's a well-rehearsed speech, Potter. I suppose you have spent these two years practicing it. Do you really assume that apologizing will help?"

"I hoped it might," Harry said, trying to feel confident. "After all, it's all I can do now."

"Is it, really?" Snape's voice sent shivers down Harry's spine. It was too soft and deadly calm.

"If there's anything else I can do, sir, just let me know."

"How very Gryffindor of you," Snape said. He didn't insult Harry. He didn't say Harry was stupid and arrogant like his father had been. He didn't call him _insufferable brat _or _idiot._

"As you surely recall, Headmaster has decided we need to take a different approach on Occlumency," Snape finally said. "As your skills seem to be… _minimal_, I think we should start with learning to clear your mind. It seems that this, however, is unusually difficult for you, and so we need to begin with the very basics. You need to be in touch with your emotions in order to be able to control them."

"I am in touch with my emotions," Harry said rather angrily.

"Are you, now? It does not seem so."

Harry didn't say anything.

"I am only trying to help you shield your mind, you idiot boy," Snape sighed. "If we choose to train this way, there has to be certain amount of… _trust._" Snape sounded disgusted by the thought. "You must be able to relax in my company, to search and learn about your emotions and how to push them aside."

"I don't know if that's possible, sir," Harry answered.

"We will try," Snape said dryly. Harry was astonished by the fact that Snape hadn't lost his temper just yet. "I will try to be more… "

"friendly," Harry asked hopefully.

"Well, let's just say civil," Snape said. "I require the same of you."

Harry was at loss for words. Snape was trying to act _civil _with him. _What has happened_, Harry thought. _It's impossible. _

"Thank you, professor," he said quietly. "I appreciate it."

"I'm not doing it for you," Snape snapped. "It has to be done in order to teach a single thing about Occlumency for the likes of you."

Harry couldn't help grinning.

"These lessons will be confidential. I suppose you understand what that means. Now," Snape said, clearing his throat, "let's start with a relaxing rehearsal. Lie down."

"On the floor," Harry asked, confused.

"No, you _imbecile_! On the blankets."

_So much about being civil, then, _Harry thought as Snape gestured him to a corner where there was a comfortable-looking pile of blankets. Harry lied down on his back awkwardly.

"Close your eyes," Snape said.

Harry did as told.

"Can you describe how you feel?"

"Yes," Harry answered.

"Then _please _do so," Snape said, sounding irritated.

"Um, well…" He didn't want to talk about _feelings_ to _Snape._

"For Merlin's sake, Potter! I'm not going to insult you," Snape said as though he had just read Harry's mind.

"I was just thinking," Harry snapped.

"Really? How interesting. I didn't know you were capable of such behavior."

"You told me you wouldn't insult me!"

"And I will not."

"You just did, _professor_," Harry almost yelled.

Snape sighed heavily. "I want this to work as much as you do, Potter."

Harry fell quiet. He thought about how he felt. Annoyed, nervous and… surprised. Yes, that was the world. Snape wasn't _civil _— not really — but he behaved a lot better than Harry had expected.

"Well," Harry began. "I feel a bit annoyed and… nervous (he gritted his teeth at this, waiting for the insult that never came) and surprised, too."

"And why do you feel annoyed, nervous and surprised," Snape asked. He wasn't mocking Harry. He sounded almost… well, civil.

"You really want me to tell, professor?"

"Why else would I have asked? Yes, Potter, I want you to tell me. Please enlighten me."

"I'm a bit annoyed because of… well, you know… um, we don't really… get along. I feel nervous because this is new to me and… and I'm really very sorry about the thing with the Pensieve and that I haven't apologized for it before… And I'm surprised because you really are more civil then usually."

"Well, then," Snape said. Harry was really confused that Snape didn't insult him. "Try to focus on these feelings. Try to really _feel _them."

Harry tried.

"Can you describe these feelings to me?"

"I don't know. It's just _weird_."

"I know it is, Potter."

"Why can't professor Dumbledore teach me this? I mean, it feels so, well, _wrong _with you. The two of us don't usually talk about my feelings. I'm not sure if I can." _And I don't want to. You would use it against me._

"The Headmaster has more pressing matters at the moment. Furthermore, he seemed to find it useful that we are not… well acquainted. Have you heard the term '_therapy_'?"

"Umm, well, yes. It's a way of dealing with… um, psychological issues and mental health. It's mental healing stuff that muggles use."

"And not only muggles, either," the Potions Master said. "Wizards use this, ah, _mental healing stuff_ as well. It, indeed, is a way to try to balance one's psyche. It is considered very important that the therapist and the patient don't know each other before the treatment. There will be no prejudices or any pressure for the patient to impress the therapist. Professor Dumbledore thought that we would have a similar benefit here."

"So we're trying to balance my psyche?"

"That couldn't harm," Snape smirked. "But it was just a metaphor. You must be connected with your feelings in order to master Occlumency. I'm not a therapist and I do not wish to be. I'm only trying to help you learn about your feelings."

"That's quite private," Harry muttered.

"I agree," Snape answered. "However, this seems to be the only way to make you really learn Occlumency. Besides, the Dark Lord will not be gentle with you once he penetrates your mind. I suppose you know this already."

"Alright," Harry sighed. "But what about the _no prejudices _part? I mean, you think I'm insufferable and stupid and I, on the other hand, think… well, whatever. You know what I mean, sir."

"We can't help that now, can we? I promise not to use any information that I should learn against you. We try to act civil. It is vital that you learn Occlumency."

"I know it is," Harry snapped, getting up. "But I don't want to… no — I _can't_ talk about my feelings to you. I want to trust you with this, I really do. It's just…"

Snape closed his eyes and sighed.

"We can try something different."

"What," Harry asked.

"The Headmaster, among many others, finds that touch is linked with trust. This is based on the simple fact that humans need to feel… closeness. In other words, he suggested that I should give you a… massage."

"WHAT?"

"Yes, well, my reaction was quite similar."

"The idea seems quite… unnatural, that's all," Harry mumbled and blushed a little. _This is just weird!_

"That is the main problem here, I suppose," Snape said. "You should be able to feel confident around me, relaxed even."

Harry had no idea what to say.

"It's not easy for me either, Potter," Snape sighed.

"Well… Um, I guess we could try that… massage stuff or whatever," Harry said. _Why the hell am I blushing? It makes everything ten times worse! _"If you don't find it disgusting, that is."

Snape didn't answer.

"Oh, I suppose you do. No wonder. Well, let's just…"

"Come here, Potter, and take the blankets with you."

Harry did as told though his hands were shaking a little. Snape sat on a chair and gestured Harry to sit on the floor in front of him.

"If anything feels bad, just inform me." Snape's voice was soft now, gentle even.

Harry nodded. He felt tense. He felt his professor's hands land on his shoulders. They began to draw big, warming circles.

"You're tense," Snape said.

"Well, yeah. Nobody's ever massaged me before."

"Is that so? Well, just try to relax — that's all you need to do. You can imagine it's somebody else if that helps you."

"It's OK," Harry mumbled.

"Relax, Potter. I'll take care of everything."

Snape's voice was soft, too soft. And it sounded… warm — quite nice, really. _I'm going mad_, Harry thought. But the words were soothing and the massage was good as well. Snape's fingers were long, warm and strong and he certainly knew what to do. Harry felt his body begin to relax. _It's quite good, really — who would've thought! _The hands on his shoulders began to press a little harder, searching for sore spots.

"All right?" Snape's voice was a whisper. It felt like the shivers on Harry's back.

"Yeah," Harry answered.

They didn't talk more as Snape drew the tension out of Harry's stiff muscles. He pressed firmly but gently and it felt _good, really good_.

Harry's breathing slowed and deepened and he let out a small, satisfied moan-ish sound without realizing it.

"Enjoying yourself," the Potions Master asked and Harry knew he was smirking. _STOP BLUSHING STOP BLUSHING STOP BLUSHING! Thank God he can't see my face!_

"Um, yeah," Harry said and blushed further. "You're pretty good… at this."

"It's good to hear," Snape answered dryly.

He continued to massage Harry for quite some time. As he finally stopped, Harry felt through and through relaxed.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Maybe we could try the first rehearsal again?"

_Is he really asking me, _Harry thought.

"Um, sure," he answered.

"Lie down, then."


	8. Thinking of You

**A/N:** Sorry it's taken so long! I've been very, very, very busy lately. I'm very tired, too, so I have to apologize for the grammar! Hope it's manageable.

And **THANKS SO MUCH **for the reviews! You have no idea how much they cheer me up :) Keep them coming.

BethanyJoLockett: Glad you like my story! I'm always panicking about the grammar so it's nice to hear that you consider my story "well written". Yay! :)

Cherrie-san: Harry will probably react in rather... interesting ways ;) (at least in Severus' opinion)

samusaran101 and D: Thanks, thanks! I love to hear it :)

Ok, so now I'll stop babbling :D Hope you'll like this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Thinking of you **(or: **Harry Potter's Wanking Sessions**. You've been warned.)

As he watched Potter leave, Severus was quite satisfied with their lesson. It could have been awkward and horrible and irritating. Well, of course it had been all that, but it had not been as bad as Severus had suspected.

In the end of the lesson Potter had managed to talk about his feelings a bit. He had still been confused but not as nervous as before.

_Have to massage him more often, then._

He was relieved that it had helped. Honestly, he thought that they were facing an impossible-seeming mission. _How can he ever trust me? How with our history? _Severus had tried his best and even managed to act quite well. Still, he was quite sure the lessons were going to be… _well, disastrous, _he thought. At some point Severus would lose his temper (with Potter around, that would probably happen very soon) and the boy would explode — the insufferable little brat he was.

Why had Albus given this task to him?

The Headmaster's eyes had been twinkling — really, there was no other way to describe the look on his eyes — as he had mentioned that maybe this approach would be better in Potter's case.

"Like it was with you," he had cheerfully noted. "You really are quite similar in many ways."

"There is no need to insult me that way," Severus had answered.

"I'm in no way trying to insult you, my dear boy. You both have merely faced too much difficulties in such young age."

Severus snorted but nodded.

"Maybe reminiscing would help you relate to Harry."

"I have no difficulties whatsoever in remembering," Severus had answered.

It was true. When they first had started Severus' Occlumency training, it had helped a lot that Albus had made Severus recognize his feelings, talk about them and then find the soothing emptiness that lied somewhere hidden under the emotions. It had helped Severus in many ways — not only with Occlumency. Still, he had been a quick learner. Albus had always talked about his talent. Severus had considered that his words had been only praise without any meaning but now he understood that that was not the case.

_Compared to Potter, I am the fucking king of Occlumency._

Then again, he could say that when comparing himself to almost anyone he knew apart from Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. He had always thought that Tom Riddle was in so much control of his mind because he could not feel like other human beings. There were only cold calculation and dangerous craving for power. There had to be something behind that, though — something that made the horrible creature (for he was no person) act the way he did. Severus hated to think about the possible actions that had created such a monster. Maybe he had been abused, shut out, raised without any love (quite like Severus) or maybe he had just been, well, broken from the start (sometimes Severus considered that it was the case with himself, too). Surely something had went horribly wrong. Lord Voldemort was pure evil embodied.

_I am not going to analyze Voldemort's ability to feel_, he thought. He almost never said that name out loud. Somehow, however, it gave him some kind of mild satisfaction to refer to the Dark Lord as _Voldemort _in his thoughts. It made him feel a bit bold and mocking, even, made him feel like he was not afraid of _Voldemort._ That, of course, was not the case.

There were many he feared for. People like Minerva or Poppy or the other staff members, some of the students, his old acquaintances. Severus was content with the fact, though, that there were not so many with whose death he could not cope with.

Albus.

Erika.

And… Potter.

Oh, how he hated to admit it but somehow, just somehow… he had grown to… appreciate some things about the idiotic Gryffindor.

_He has quite a nice bod- NO. _

The boy was brave, for instance, though in a maddening, stupid way. He was determined (or arrogant) and he seemed to accept his role and the pressure that came with it. He was innocent (_Is he a virgin? I just did NOT think of that._) and Severus wondered how it was possible, after everything the boy had been through — so capable of caring, of _love_ and compassion.

Harry — _no, Potter —_ was quite delicate, really. And yet he was so strong.

And he was lost, so lost.

_I wonder if I really can help him_, Severus thought.

* * *

Harry laid on his bed, thinking about Snape.

_What do I know about him?_

_He's brave. His mean — I wonder if he really is in touch with his feelings — though he must be, he wouldn't be such a good Occlumens otherwise. He's always in control. He was abused as a child. I suppose his childhood wasn't so great._

_He hurt himself. I wonder if he still does._

_Does he have friends? Dumbledore, I suppose and the Muggle Studies teacher, what's her name again? Are they in love? Why do I care? I don't care! So, his friends. I suppose MgGonagal is his friend, too._

_He's not happy._

_That's not fair._

_I wish he was._

_Am I really gay?_

There it was again. Harry had tried not to think about his sexual orientation. He felt he was stuck with Ginny. He should've been at least bisexual. _Women don't attract me; men do_, he thought. _So I am gay. I guess it's not such a big deal. It will be hard to explain to Ginny, though… or to anyone else._

His mind drifted back to Snape.

_Why have I seen his memories, though? I've never managed to push him out — not once. Still, I get to see these glimpses. I only wish I saw some more… WHY do I wish that?_

_I think about him way too much._

_His eyes… What am I thinking about?_

Harry left his mind drift, not really thinking about what he was thinking. _I suppose this is letting go, _he thought. He closed his eyes and suddenly realized something.

_Oh God, I'm horny._

There was no one at the dormitory, though, as everyone in his year had gone home for the holidays, so why not just… Harry reached down and opened his zipper. It had been too long, anyway.

He thought about a man — muscular but slim. Tall and older. Somehow the men in his fantasies tended to be older. _Maybe it's the experience? The control? _Harry didn't quite know what the thing about older men was but he felt quite aroused. He let his breath out, stroking his now hardened cock.

He wanted to be taken.

No questions; just good sex, just letting go.

Harry wanted something — no, someone — inside him. It would hurt a bit — just how he wanted it to. He would feel just a bit too full and be marked, be owned.

Harry stroked faster and faster.

Someone that would hold him up, hold him close and want him so much he couldn't think about anything else.

Harry was close, so very close.

Suddenly a picture of black eyes flashed to his mind. So black and endless and angry, almost passionate and owning and—

_Oh, God, _Harry thought as he came so hard that everything went black for a moment.

He lied down for quite some time, waiting his breath return to normal. Then, as he realized what had happened, he quickly told himself: _I was not aroused by Snape. I merely thought about him when wanked. Now it sounds like I wanked TO HIM! I DIDN'T. I was just about to come and I've spent so much time with him and been worried and that must be it. It's not like I came because I thought of him. And it was an accident._

Harry let the explanation sink in. Then he got up and went to dinner.

The rest of the day went well and Snape didn't even want to practice anymore. Harry hung out with Dobby and walked around, feeling a bit lonely but quite content. He was glad he had some time to think.

He needed it.

As he walked around the castle, he heard Peeves sing.

_"All I want for Christmas is poop!"_

It wasn't singing, not really. Harry considered it ear-raping. Still, it would've been nice to tell someone about it.


	9. A Never-ending Lesson

**A/N:** So sorry for the delay - this chapter _really _seems to have no end. I try to post the next chapter very soon; this one was a MONSTER.

And thanks for the reviews! :) And, as always, please R&R! 3

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 9: A Never-ending Lesson**

As Harry got up the following morning, he didn't remember that his dreams had been violent, occupied by Voldemort. He took a shower, got dressed and went to breakfast. Everyone was eating at the staff table now that almost all the students had gone home. It was a bit awkward.

Harry chatted with his professors and tried not to look at Snape's eyes. Then, however, his eyes drifted to the Potions Master's hands.

_Oh God, they're beautiful._

Long, thin fingers, slender wrists. _I thought his nails would be shorter, _Harry thought as he looked at the beautiful hands. _He does take care of them._

Harry felt he was being watched. He quickly looked up and met Snape's gaze. The older wizard arched one eyebrow that certainly said: _What the hell are you looking at? _Harry felt hot around his cheeks but returned the gaze.

* * *

Potter swallowed.

_Merlin, he looks good, cheeks flushed like that._

Severus watched the boy swallow, intrigued by the muscles on his throat, the movement of the Adam's apple, the- _WHAT THE HELL IS MY PROBLEM? HE IS A STUDENT. STOP. STOP. STOP!_

"Is everything all right, Severus," Minerva asked, sounding concerned.

"What," Severus snapped. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just… in my thoughts."

Albus smirked — smirked, really.

Severus looked sternly at him and got up.

"Don't be late from the lesson, Potter."

"I won't, sir," the boy said, smiling.

Severus had to look away. _ Why is he smiling at me? I do not care. Potter is a stupid brat. _

He left quickly, his robes billowing.

* * *

As Harry entered the room, he found it dimly lit.

"Lay on the blankets," Snape said.

Harry did quickly as told.

"I want you to relax your mind," Snape said, his voice quiet.

"Um," Harry began.

"Quiet. Do not speak — just listen. As your body relaxes, your mind will follow. Try to feel your muscles relaxing, the blood running in your veins, warming you up." Snape was quiet for a moment. "Can you feel it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Very good." Snape's voice was very low and the he sounded like he was measuring the complimentary words on his tongue before letting them slip away. _Well, it's not like he's used to compliment me, _Harry thought.

"Let's start with your toes."

_What? Start what? That sounds so absurd_, Harry thought.

"Feel the blood warming your toes one by one, your muscles relaxing. There is no tension there — only warmth. You feel comfortable."

Harry let the sensation wash over him, let his muscles relax, let the low flood like a soft wave around him — let himself obey.

His toes relaxed, then his feet, his legs, his knees, his thighs and so on. Snape took his time telling Harry to relax, explaining how Harry really felt very_ calm _and _warm _and _good. _And in its all oddness, it worked.

_This is weird,_ Harry thought, _Snape being so… kind. _Harry knew it was part of the rehearsal but still… it was strange. In a good way, though.

Snape kept talking and Harry kept relaxing. Finally, Snape told Harry to relax the muscles on his forehead and then just savor the feeling of being warm, safe and relaxed.

That's exactly how Harry felt.

After quite a while, Snape told Harry to explain how he felt.

"Well, I'm tired," Harry said, yawning.

"And?"

"A bit stressed out, though right now I feel good."

"Why are you, ah, stressed out, then," Snape asked, only mild sarcasm in his voice.

_Why? Well, first of all…_

"…There's the stuff with Voldemort (he waited for Snape to say "_the Dark Lord_" but he didn't), the visions and all that. It never quite leaves me. I guess I'm kinda used to it in a way… Though maybe it's something that I can never get used to."

"Is there something else," Snape asked quietly, almost in a friendly manner.

"Um, well…"

_there's this stuff with me being gay, I sort of just discovered it, and the fact that I have to tell Ginny and dump her and…_

"I will not tell anyone. I will not use it against you. I will not mock you. You can tell me everything." Snape's words were comforting, understanding, and suddenly Harry wanted to tell all that he'd been thinking about.

"Well, it's like this," Harry began. "I have this… um, I mean, I'm dating Ginny."

"Go on." It wasn't and order, it was merely a… recommendation.

"Well… shit, um, sorry, sir. It's just… I can't fucking say it!"

"You can," Snape said. "You can tell anything and everything that bothers you."

"I'm gay."

Snape didn't say a thing.

"Um, sir," Harry asked. He felt strange, having just admitted his most recent, quite pressing secret to the man he had _NOT_ wanked to, getting no comment at all.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Um, nothing, I suppose." _I am blushing again, _he realized, horrified. "It's just, well, I don't know. I guess I should end things with Ginny. I don't know how Ron will react, though. Or Fred and George. Or any of them, really, um, I mean the Weasleys. Or Hermione. How can I possibly tell them I can't be with Ginny because I'm gay? They will hate me!" Harry was almost yelling now as everything just seemed to come out rushing. He just didn't seem to be able to stop it anymore.

Snape was quiet again.

Embarrassment hit Harry like cold water.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Whatever for, Mr. Potter?" It didn't sound like mockery.

"I… this. I don't… FUCKING HELL."

"Please try to form a coherent sentence," Snape said, not angrily, though. He was quite neutral, if a bit amused.

"I apologize for… for whining about my private life. I know you're not interested in it."

"Stop apologizing. You are doing what you were told. This must the first time we have made so much progress. Continue, if you please."

"What… um, okay. So, hell, sorry. I just don't know what to do."

"Would you like to _end things_, as you said, with Ms. Weasley?"

"I guess… I mean there's no way I'm interested in her that way. Ugh, really, it can be quite disturbing to just… play along."

"I beg your pardon."

"To… you know… with her. Snogging and stuff. Couldn't quite imagine I could… ever… um, fuck her." As Harry understood what he had said, he added: "Oh, shit."

"Do calm down," Snape said and smiled — really smiled. It was a quick one, though.

_Wow, _Harry thought for a split second or so.

"No need to worry. I wanted you to speak and now you are speaking. So, I understood that you feel… pressured to stay with Ms. Weasley but you have no sexual interest in her."

"That's the case, really," Harry sighed. "I just can't say it. Why did I start dating her? I've been so stupid. Now I'm gonna lose everything."

"That will not happen."

"What?"

"Why don't you just talk with her? Explain the situation. She is clever enough to understand. And I am really surprised you expect to be abandoned by the Weasley family as well as Ms. Granger. They are your best friends — if I am correct — and, I suppose, your family, in a way. They will not abandon you."

"How can they not?"

"They care for you," Snape said dryly. "You should never underestimate the power of… affection."

"Are you sure," Harry asked.

"I am no mind-reader, Potter (Harry chuckled at this — s_urely not, _he thought), but I happen to know Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. And I have, unfortunately, taught all of their children. I know what I am talking about."

"The thing is, though," Harry mumbled, thrown by the compassion Snape had just shown, "that I don't want to cause any more pain…"

"Oh, just stop being so fucking noble, Potter," Snape said.

_That's more like the Snape I know, _Harry thought.

"So you want to fuck men. Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, the Boy Who Lived, is a gay. As much as I hate to tell you this, the world is not going to end because of this information."

Strangely, Harry felt quite relieved by the comment. Then again, maybe he was just in shock. Severus Snape had just used the word _fuck _— twice.

"But Ginny… I mean, she, um, I can't just…"

"She will get over it," Snape answered dryly. "If I am correct, she has never had a lack of admirers. If you are not happy with her, you're just making not only you but her, as well, miserable."

"I guess that's true," Harry said, astonished. "Though still… I don't know."

"You do not know what?"

"This stuff… me liking men… has thrown me a bit. I have no idea what people in The Wizarding World think about it."

"It is quite common, really," Snape said with his lecture-voice. "And considered natural. The wizarding community is quite open-minded when it comes to the matters of love."

"That's good to know, I guess. Is it really common, though? I don't know any, um, gay wizards."

"Sure you do," Snape said, his teeth flashing as he smirked.

"I do?" Harry was quite surprised.

"You do indeed."

"Um, well, who?" _Are you? What am I thinking?!_

"It is not my place to reveal people's sexual orientations," Snape answered dryly.

"So you don't know anyone, either," Harry muttered. "I wonder if Ron will start acting all weird and awkward around me when I tell — _if _I tell him, that is."

"You will tell him," Snape said. It sounded like an order. "There is no need to suffocate yourself by not letting your own people know. As for someone who is homosexual… well, Albus, I mean the Headmaster, for instance, is."

"Dumbledore is gay," Harry asked, shocked.

"_Professor _Dumbledore," Snape corrected.

"But… oh… I never thought of him_ that_ way."

Snape smirked and suddenly Harry understood the double-meaning of his sentence.

"Oh God, I… I didn't mean…"

"That you fantasize about the Headmaster. Or that you have not so far, that is."

Harry wanted to sink through the floor.

"That's EXACTLY what I didn't mean."

"Yes, yes, I gathered it. It merely sounded… amusing. Now, I _trust _you not to tell this to anyone, Potter. Is that clear? For if I hear any rumors about the Headmaster… Let's just say there are a few curses I haven't been able to cast in a very long time."

"I won't tell anyone," Harry said.

"You will not," Snape agreed. "Now, as for these feelings you were describing…"

Harry focused his attention.

"Close your eyes. Let the feelings come crashing. Let yourself be ashamed, angry, scared — whatever it is that you are now feeling. Dwell on it. Savor it. Let the sensation become your whole existence."

Harry tried, though it was a bit… s_cary_? He wasn't used to let his feelings rummage like this. Usually he just tried to, well, make them not exist. But something in Harry seemed to respond very strongly to Snape's words.

Harry closed his eyes and let himself _feel_.

The feelings that were as strong and harsh as violence crashed inside him, almost hurting. Harry clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.

"Relax now," a voice said, quite soft and distant.

Harry let his grip loosen. There was no escape. He was so helpless, not knowing how to react. He just laid still, feeling his control slipping away. It was something he had forbidden himself long ago.

To his horror, he felt something wet on his cheeks. Tears.

He tried to wipe them away, to stop crying, but he couldn't anymore.

"Just let yourself feel it — all of it." Snape's voice was a whisper, soothing and low.

Harry stopped wiping his tears. He just laid there, crying. Minutes passed and he felt the tears slowly stopping, his breathing coming back to normal. The feelings stayed, though.

"Are you awake," Snape asked quietly.

"Yeah," Harry said. His voice sounded strangled.

"Now let go."

"What," Harry asked.

"Let go," Snape said with a smooth voice.

"I can't," Harry answered.

"Yes you can," Snape said without any irritation. "You can and you will. Just let the feelings flow past you and feel the emptiness of your mind. It is there, on the center of all the emotions."

Harry listened to Snape's voice. It was calm and almost friendly.

"You can feel the soothing calmness. It lies within you."

Harry relaxed a bit by these words.

"You feel better as you let go. Let your mind be empty."

Harry tried to stop thinking, to stop _feeling_, but he couldn't.

It was like Snape had read his mind. "There's no hurry. We will have time. You will have time. Just let yourself relax and search for the emptiness."

Slowly, very slowly, he felt his feelings give way to something calm and empty. It didn't feel good or bad, it was just, well, empty. Empty of pictures or feelings or inhibitions. He didn't force his mind to do anything. All of sudden, his mind just was… empty.

Minutes passed like that. Five, ten, fifteen, maybe. There was absolutely nothing in Harry's head.

"We will try Legilimency now, if you are ready."

And Harry felt he was.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. To his surprise, Snape sat opposite him on the blankets. How long had he been sitting there?

"Let's do it," Harry said.

"Very well. Legilimens."

Harry felt Snape trying to force his way to the emptiness, could really _feel _where his mind ended and Snape's begun. He pushed back, determined to break the connection.

Snape pushed back, harder.

There were distant pictures of Harry, memories trying to surface, trying to break the emptiness.

Harry wasn't going to let them break his concentration.

He pushed harder and felt Snape's mind give way to his. Then there were Snape's memories.

_A young Snape cutting his hand where the bruises that his father had made remained_

_A bit older Snape standing on the shower, all his clothes on, shivering_

_An adult Snape, pinned against the wall, moaning as someone — was it a man? — thrust against him_

Snape's eyes were very black and anything but impassive. And Harry was falling, falling, falling again — straight to that warm, safe place. This time, however, he could feel he wasn't alone. He felt Snape's mind all around him, like a protective embrace.

Harry forgot to try to push Snape out. No — Harry didn't want him to go, to leave just yet. It felt so good there with Snape. So safe.

_You are not trying._

Harry could feel the words with his whole body or mind or maybe both. He knew he wasn't trying anymore. He didn't care.

_You are only letting me deeper in._

Suddenly Harry was all shivers. His mind had its own way to think about Snape' words and everything they could possibly mean in every different kind of situation. Letting Snape in…

And then there was a memory, clear and vivid and painfully real.

_Alone at the dormitory, in his bed, reaching for his zipper_

_Vague pictures of men — older and more powerful than he was_

_Stroking his cock and moaning quietly, cheeks flushed_

_Wanting so bad to be marked, to be owned, to give up the control_

_Images of rough sex, a bit pain, maybe, and sweet oblivion_

_Stroking and stroking and stroking hard_

_A picture of black eyes — so black and endless and angry, almost passionate and owning and-_

_Coming so hard that there was nothing but black_

Black, black, black and then something — the same pair of those beautiful eyes, drawing away. Harry noticed vaguely that his knees hadn't hit the floor. Snape was there, watching him, cheeks flushed. _That's a new expression, _Harry thought, and then

_OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!_

He had never felt as embarrassed as he did that moment.

_I can't look at him._

_I have to._

_I have to say something NOW — otherwise he thinks that I-Oh FUCKING HELL._

"It wasn't like- I didn't… think of… you, that is. I wasn't thinking about you. " Suddenly he noticed his voice was hoarse and did he maybe feel a bit — _oh my fucking God — _aroused. Embarrassed, aroused, exposed. _Fucking fucking fucking hell._

"To judge by your reaction…" Snape didn't have to say any more. If he had been surprised, that couldn't be seen. There was only a suppressed smirk on his face as his eyes looked down on Harry and up again. It didn't help Harry to calm down — quite the opposite, really.

"No," Harry said, louder than needed, trying not to think what he must've looked like. A stupid, humiliated brat with a still noticeable hard-on. "It was just - you see- it was after our lesson and I… My mind wasn't quite… um, how to put it, focused. So it, um, drifted."

"And so, as you masturbated, your mind _drifted_ to, of all things, me." The smirk was clearly visible now, the voice teasing.

"Well- I… It's not like, you see, but- You don't have to worry that, um, I don't… I know it must be truly… disgusting… to you… so I just need you to know that I _did not-_"

"Relax, Potter," Snape said, still smirking. "What do you think I'm going to do? Hex you? I know it is nothing."

"Then why do you have to-"

"Am I supposed to let the rare occasions that might be enjoyable slip away?"

"And this is an… enjoyable occasion," Harry asked.

"Merely amusing."

"I hate it when you're inside my head," Harry snarled.

"I beg to differ."

Suddenly there was a brief flash of that warm, safe place. A place that Snape had found.

Harry blushed.

"Yeah, well, anyway. What is it that happened? It was the second time, and, um, it's… weird."

"I suppose that our minds have found a connection. It is merely natural after practicing Legilimency repeatedly for such a long time."

"And why is it, um, kind of… pleasant?" Harry hated to say out the words but Snape knew it anyway, didn't he? No use in lying there.

"I cannot answer that question; I have no answer. You seem to find it… somehow… comforting."

Snape seemed to pick his words carefully.

"So you don't, I mean, it's not like — what I mean to say is that it doesn't feel the same for you?" The words tasted clumsy and idiotic in Harry's mouth. What was he even thinking?

"How I consider the connection does not enter this conversation."

"Oh, of course not, _professor,_" Harry said mockingly. "I just have to tell you all my secrets and you don't have to tell a thing!"

"Precisely," Snape said, his voice as impassive as his face.

Harry stared at his professor, anger flashing on his face.

"Besides," Snape said, his voice now softer. "You know some of the things… I had rather no one knew."

"Really?" Harry was astonished.

"You really are an imbecile, aren't you? You really do think I _wish _you to know about my childhood, for example? Of the loving parents I had?"

"Um… no. But… well, why don't you just use the Pensieve, then?"

"The Headmaster has better uses for the Pensieve, that is why."

"So everything's…" Harry didn't quite know how to continue the sentence.

"Out in the open," Snape said, still managing to sound sarcastic. "Are you content now?"

"No," Harry said. "I don't wish to violate your privacy any more than I have."

"Well, I am very glad of that," Snape answered dryly. "Just go now, Potter. You are dismissed. And you get tomorrow off — it's Christmas, after all."


	10. You Confuse Me

**A/N:** Happy Christmas! :) Couldn't sleep so I posted this chapter (10th one, yay! I was so sure this fic would die after the first chapters - not gonna happen anymore).

And thanks, thanks, thanks for the reviews, Gemini Peverell, mooree, samurasan101 and Godiva9. You made my Christmas even better! :)

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 10: You Confuse Me**

The pain Harry felt was as real as the pleasure.

Bellatrix was whispering, Lucius screaming and Narcissa crying quietly.

"Please, my Lord, please…"

"Crucio!"

As the pain seemed to explode in Harry's head, he woke up.

_It was just a dream, _he thought, _and I am in my own bed in boys' dormitory at Hogwarts._

Harry noticed he was panting and felt cold sweat on his forehead. He felt panicked, somehow, as if the dream hadn't quite faded. He could almost hear the screams mixed with quiet sobs and whispers. He shivered.

Slowly, almost without his own noticing, Harry's hands came to his thighs. For a moment, he just let his hands lay there, considering whether to do it or not. Then, almost too slowly, he let his nails sink in. When he felt the pain, he drew upwards.

_Don't think about the dream. Just think about the pain._

He did it again and again and again until his thighs hurt.

_Change of location, _he thought, strangely determined to feel pain, to stop thinking.

His arms hurt as he pushed his nails against the skin even harder, almost cutting the skin. He would leave bruises, he knew — the pressure was too much — but he didn't care.

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth and tried to make the world go away. It had worked before. Whenever there had been a particularly bad, panic-causing vision, Harry had lulled himself to sleep with help of the pain and the endorphins that came after.

It didn't help this time.

_I don't want to be alone._

_Don't be ridiculous._

_I can't be alone._

_Don't be a baby._

_I CAN'T FUCKING STAND THIS!_

_Alright. I'm going to see Snape. Now._

He got out of bed, almost like in trance, grabbed his invisibility cloak and left. As he walked towards the cold dungeons, he didn't question his decision — not once.

Before he had knocked on Snape's door, that is.

There were several things Harry noticed just then.

_He's probably asleep._

_He's going to kill me._

_I have no decent reason to be here._

_Fucking hell — I'm in my pajamas!_

And then he realized he had knocked on the classroom door.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

_He's not here — I don't even know where his private quarters are. Now I can escap-_

The door opened.

"Potter," Snape said. "What on Merlin's name are you doing here?"

He was still wearing his day robes, Harry noticed.

"I had a vision," Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

"And?"

"I. Um. I don't know. I just… well, the thing is-"

"Come inside," Snape said tiredly, to Harry's surprise.

As Harry stepped inside, Snape closed the door and walked towards another one that Harry had never seen before.

"Are you coming or not," Snape asked harshly. "If we are going to have a conversation, I want to be in by own quarters."

_He's really letting me…_

"Walk, Potter; it is not so hard."

Harry did as told, though he felt really awkward.

_What the hell am I doing here, _he thought.

Harry walked to the door, then stepped inside. The walls were white and the wooden floor was dark and yet the room wasn't anything like the one Harry had nightmares about. There was a big couch and a table. Fire was lit but otherwise the room was dark.

"Do you want firewhisky," Snape asked casually. "I'm having some."

"Well, yes, please," Harry said, astonished by Snape's friendliness.

Snape handed him a glass.

"Do sit down."

Harry did as told. Snape sat on the other end of the sofa and merely stared at Harry.

"Speak, Potter," Snape said tiredly. "It's not like I'm going to hex you."

"I'm sorry I came here," Harry began. "I just… Well, the thing is, the vision, um, visions can be quite… tough, really. And. Um. Ijustdidn'twannabealone."

"And so you came to _me_?" Snape's tone was more than mildly surprised.

"I didn't think."

"Well, that is nothing new," Snape said, then paused. "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"No," Harry said, though all that came out was a hoarse whisper.

"Why are you here, then?"

Harry felt his shoulders shaking.

"I just want it to stop… oh, God, I… Sorry, I'm..." Harry realized he was starting to cry _AGAIN_.

Snape didn't say anything.

"Could you… maybe… just do a rehearsal with me? I just want this to… stop."

"Just let it all out."

"No, NO! I don't… I can't… You don't know what I have to see… I mean, you do, I suppose, but not as… _him. _Just make it stop. Please."

"What do you think about a massage," the older wizard asked.

"Would you, really?" Harry was still sobbing.

"What would be a better time to build trust," Snape said dryly. "I have some massage oil. Take your shirt off — if that is fine with you."

Harry didn't really think as he took off his shirt.

"Just relax," Snape said. "You are safe now."

Harry heard Snape summon the oil. Shortly after that, Harry felt a pair of warm hands on his shoulders, slick with oil. He immediately relaxed a little.

"Thank you," Harry whispered and closed his eyes.

Strong, slow motions with little pressure. Fingers pressed to Harry's shoulders, warming up and testing, seeking for tension, weighing the condition of the muscles.

The touch of Snape's hands made Harry relax and shiver at the same time. He could feel Snape's magic or heartbeat or something pulsing, warming him up. There were no tears left, only this new feeling, strangely soothing but tickling in a way, something completely opposite to terror.

_Surely this shouldn't feel this good — not like this._

Snape's hands were gentle but strong, kneading and pressing and Harry tried not to moan, not to tell how good it was, how good it felt to be touched bySnape.

_I just didn't think that._

But there was no point in denying it. Harry was melting under the professional touch of his professor.

_It's completely normal. Massage is meant to feel good, right?_

Not this good, though. Snape's touch left Harry's skin on goosebumps. His skin was all shivers, really.

"Feeling cold, Potter," Snape asked. His voice was like a warm wave on Harry's skin. Harry could really _feel _it. There were more shivers as Snape talked with that lazy, smooth tone.

_Oh God, what's wrong with me, _Harry thought.

"I'm fine." His voice was a bit hoarse.

"It's not the temperature, then?"

Snape was mocking, Harry knew he was, but just hearing the sound of his voice…

"I'm just tired," he said.

Snape continued without making a sound. He was closer now, Harry knew, as he felt the man's breath on his neck. Harry continued shivering, unable to stop himself.

Snape's hands massaged his upper back and Harry felt so good — so safe and warm and almost like in _that _place. The hands on his back felt strangely good even though they were Snape's. _Maybe not 'even though'. Maybe 'because'. _He was too tired to even censor his thoughts.

* * *

_Potter has a glorious body._

_Dear Merlin, Severus, just put yourself together already!_

Severus felt the boy's tight back under his palms, warm and a bit red where Severus' hands had made the tension go away. He made his way up, back to shoulders, letting his fingers just rest there.

_The smell of him is not completely unpleasant, _Severus noticed. It was quite the opposite, really, salty sweat and something else… something… He realized he was too close, breathing on the boy's neck. He quickly pulled away, placing his hands on Potter's arms.

"Ow," the boy said, quietly, then shut his mouth quickly.

"What's wrong," Severus asked.

"Nothing," Potter said but there was… what, pain, in his voice.

Severus looked closer. There were red lines, long and crossed, mapping the boy's pale arms. Some of them looked like bruises.

"What is this," Severus asked. He had a guess but he hoped it was wrong.

"Nothing." Potter sounded alarmed; he was clearly lying.

"Turn around," Severus said.

Potter did but did not look Severus in the eye.

"It's nothing," he repeated.

"Did you do this to yourself?"

"I. Um. I sometimes scratch myself when asleep," the boy mumbled, blushing and still not looking up.

"I will use Legilimency if necessary, Potter. Just spit it out."

There was a long moment during which Severus suddenly realized just how exhausted and fragile the boy looked. Potter chewed his lower lip, his long eyelashes lying on his reddened cheeks.

Suddenly he looked up and locked his eyes with Severus.

"I was scared." It was just a hoarse whisper, barely hearable. Then, even more quietly, "I am scared."

"I know," Severus said because that was all he really knew.

"I know you understand. I've seen you. In your memories."

Severus knew the boy knew. Potter had seen some of the times when Severus had let his body take all his hatred and anger and fear and sorrow and-

"You should not do it," Severus said softly. "It doesn't help."

"But it does," the boy insisted.

"For a moment, yes," Severus admitted. "But it leaves you feeling worse, doesn't it?"

"Well, maybe. But… somehow… satisfied. And there's nothing else that helps."

"How do you know?"

Suddenly Severus wanted to hold the boy close, to smooth his hair, to- _I will not think about it._

"I-" _will help you with your pain. _"I just know it is not worth it. You are running away from your feelings. Pain does not make them not exist."

"I know. But if I shouldn't…Um… What does help, then?"

"Facing the feelings."

"I can't," Harry said. "I can't, really. It's too much for me. I- I think I might… I don't know. I just can't. Not… alone. God, I'm _pathetic_!"

"You are no such thing," Severus said, a bit too loudly. He lifted Potter's chin a bit, feeling the unshaved skin.

"But I am," the boy said, looking intensely at Severus, eyes flashing green. "I am afraid of it all. And I can't even deal with my feelings. And I feel so… lonely." He blushed again, a delicious color on his skin. Hi eyes were full of depression, though, shining with tears.

"You are not alone," Severus said quietly. "Think about your friends, about Albus."

"It's not enough."

Severus just looked at the boy, trying to figure out what to say.

"Think about me, then." _I should not say this. Just stop it, stop alrea- "_I am here. You are not alone; you are with me. You're safe, Harry._"_ The boy's name came out as a whisper, clumsy and new. It didn't fit Severus' lips and yet the boy seemed to blush even deeper.

"Could you… come here," Potter asked hesitantly.

Severus walked around the sofa and sat next to the boy.

"Can I- May I…" Potter didn't end the sentence. He just lay down, placing his head on Severus' lap.

Severus was surprised but didn't push the boy away. He just let him lay there on his lap, eyes closed. After some time he felt Potter's body relax and heard his breathing deepen.

_The brat fell asleep. I should wake him up._

But somehow Severus couldn't bring himself to do it. He let the boy sleep there and even smoothed the messy hair. _I will not fall asleep_, he thought. But Severus was very, very tired and Potter's head was very, very warm and the sofa was very, very comfortable.

He let his eyes rest closed.

Just for a moment.

* * *

**A/N part 2: **Hope you liked it! I know they both are horribly NOT IC in this chapter, I hope it doesn't spoil the mood. (Please tell if I'm doing a character-rape.) On the other hand, I do think that they both have a soft side. OK, enough babbling :D


	11. Passing the Carrots

**A/N:** I've got the NASTIEST flu ever (not that it should have anything to do with the author's notes but oh well…) If there are horrible mistakes with grammar, I'm blaming the flu for it! I have to say I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much! ;)

Thanks for the reviews again, samurasan101 and Godiva9! :) I'm glad to hear you liked the chapter. I was afraid it'd be... too much. But I can PROMISE there will be something like it in the future, too...

BTW I just noticed this story has 65 followers! Yay! I'm so excited about this! As I started writing this (and this still is my first fanfic EVER), I was like, well, maybe there will be 5 followers or something - if I'm lucky. So this is really great! And so, as there are so many of you, please do review! It's such and easy thing to do and reviews always make me want to post the next chapter quickly so... do it NOW ;) I'll be grateful!

This is really random but have you read "The Master Plan" by StarryGazer? If you haven't, go and read it! It's what's been keeping me from posting this chapter (now I'm like in chapter 33) and I absolutely adore it! Love, even, maybe (there aren't that many fics that I really love). Can't tell before I'm finished reading. OK, so I'm babbling AGAIN.

Here's the chapter I've been wating to post!

* * *

**Chapter 11: Passing the Carrots**

Severus felt good.

There was a beautiful body lying on top of his, entwined with him. It was a man, Severus knew. A man whose warm fingers were mapping his body, whose breath Severus could feel all over his skin, companied by wet little kisses.

Severus let the man nibble on his neck, let him suck _that _spot behind his ear. Severus could feel the man's erection against his stomach, thick and needy.

A moan escaped the man's lips a Severus pressed their bodies together. He felt the hot, sweaty body against him, felt the man's fingertips and lips on his skin and _OhMerlinitfeelsgoodandstillit'snotenoughand_-

The moan that escaped Severus' lips was just a bit too real. He could feel it vibrating through his throat, could feel it rolling on his tongue and touching his lips.

As his eyes snapped open, he did not know what was real and what was not.

_Fuck. It's Potter._

Even though this horrible realization hit him, Severus did not move straight away.

_Merlin, the boy feels good. Smells good. Looks good._

_What if I just- FUCK, NO. I HAVE TO STOP THIS! IT. IS. SICK!_

Just then the boy moaned.

It was a low, quiet sound that sent shivers on Severus' back.

_FUCK._

_FUCK._

_FUCK._

_I'm so fucking hard._

Severus took a several deep breaths and tried to will his erection away.

No such luck.

Potter had turned so that his head lay on Severus' chest. How they had ended up like this, Severus did not know. All he knew was that Potter's eyelashes were too long, his cheeks too (deliciously) flushed. And that he was hard, too. The little, wet lips still made needy sounds that did nothing to decrease Severus' arousal.

_FUCK._

For a moment Severus cursed himself for having fallen asleep like that. Then he took the last deep breath.

"Get up, Potter."

* * *

"Mmm."

Harry felt very good. In fact, he felt brilliant. This had to be a dream, he knew, for only in his dreams he had another man to share his bed with. Another Man smelled very good. Another Man felt very good. Harry wondered, what would Another Man taste li-

"POTTER. UP. NOW."

Harry opened his eyes, startled by the sound.

_Where am I? What is this?_

The realization hit him like cold water.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!"

His cheeks were burning like crazy as he looked at the deep, black eyes only inches away from him.

_FUCKING HELL! He's gonna kill me!_

And then Harry realized how very painfully hard he was.

"Get off me," his professor said, voice hoarse and low.

_He's aroused, too! _Harry could feel the hard length pressing against him. _God, his big!_

Harry tried to get up but only managed to thrust his cock against the other man's.

"Stop. It." Snape's voice sounded extremely dangerous and low. Extremely arousing.

They were ridiculously entwined and as Harry tried to get up again and pushed against Snape AGAIN, he couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips.

"I'm sorry," he panted, "professor."

"JUST GET OFF ME THIS MINUTE, POTTER!"

Snape's cheeks were flushed with anger and arousal, Harry noticed.

_That's a nice color._

_Stop it! I'm only reacting like this because I'm horny. HOW can I have an erection in a situation like this?_

Harry climbed off his professor awkwardly, not daring to look at the man.

"I'm sorry," he managed, still hard as a rock. "I'm so terribly sorry, prof-"

"Oh, just shut up, Potter," the older wizard snarled, getting up quickly. "This is entirely my fault. I should have woken you up. I should NOT have fallen asleep. What you- What we _both _experienced is merely a natural human reaction."

"Um," Harry said. He had no idea, what to do, what to say.

He was still hard. Snape was still hard. And Harry's current thoughts were highly inappropriate.

"Should I go?"

"Yes."

"Um, professor?"

"What," Snape snapped.

"Happy Christmas."

* * *

Severus did not answer anything. He just looked at the boy, beautifully aroused and embarrassed and _OhIwanttotakehimnow._

As the brat closed the door, Severus sighed loudly. Then, without any further hesitation, he pushed his trousers and pants down and gripped himself.

Flashes of a dark haired man run behind Severus' eyelids — _NOT POTTER — _as his hand went up and down. He had no idea when he had been this aroused.

_Probably never._

He laughed inwardly at the thought.

Soon he came, almost painfully hard, _not thinking about Potter._

Severus cast a cleaning spell and buried his head on his hands.

_I'm sick._

He had no idea how to face the brat on Christmas dinner. Luckily, though, they had already missed breakfast.

* * *

Harry didn't feel like eating.

For a moment, he even considered not going to Christmas dinner at all.

_I have to. Otherwise he'll think it's because of him._

_But it IS because of him._

_No — it's because of me. What was I thinking yesterday? What was I thinking just now? How could I be aroused in such a situation?_

He cast another cleaning spell on himself. He felt dirty, somehow. He had wanked immediately after returning to the dormitory.

It hadn't taken long.

_I must go and act normal._

Harry got up and walked down to the Great Hall, trying not to look at the staff table.

_Don't look up._

He took his seat and then quickly glanced up.

Snape looked intensely back at him.

_He knows he knows he knows-_

"Well then," Dumbledore begun. "Happy Christmas to everyone!"

They chatted and ate and Harry tried not to look at Snape.

"Potter." The voice was deep, rich and low. Harry's head snapped up only to meet a pair of black eyes. Harry blushed.

"Pass the carrots."

Harry bit his lip.

Snape arched his eyebrow.

Somehow Snape could make even passing the carrots sound mocking and… something else. Something that Harry couldn't quite name. Something that made Harry's cheeks burn so that he imagined that he had to look like a giant tomato.

"Sure, professor," Harry finally mumbled, looking away.

Dumbledore smiled somehow knowingly.

As Harry tried to pass the carrots without looking at Snape, he accidentally hit the man with the bowl.

"Potter."

"Sorry, professor," Harry squeaked. He was sure that the tomato-color on his face had turned to red wine-ish.

He looked at Snape.

Snape looked back.

His eyes were very black and suddenly Harry was sure that Snape knew everything, though he wasn't quite sure what 'everything' meant. There was a silent sound of conversation that seemed to fade to the background. It felt quite like Legilimency only nothing like it.

"Let go of the bowl," Snape hissed.

_I am an idiot! What's wrong with me_, Harry thought as he let go of the said bowl.

"You seem to be capable of following simple instructions, I see. Maybe I should try to be more precise in the future. Now stop staring, Potter. And please try not to hit me with anything."

Harry looked up. The words were clearly meant to be a mockery but Snape's voice lacked the usual cruelness. He seemed only amused.

There was an almost-smile on Snape's face and suddenly Harry felt he was pulled towards the man, to the depths of those eyes.

There was a memory.

_A blurred line between reality and dream_

_Soft moaning noises, heat, shivers on his back _(Snape's back or his own, Harry didn't know)

_Little kisses and deeper ones, more demanding ones, a draft of a fantasy_

_Feeling so so so fucking painfully hard _(_How can I feel his memory, _Harry thought)

_Opening eyes, noticing Harry Potter _(_Do I look like that when I'm asleep? Of fuck, what am I doing? I didn't really moan like that, did I?_)

_A rush of feelings — shame and ager and self-loath mixed with arousal_

And just like that, the connection broke.

Harry tried to search for Snape's eyes, not sure what to make of this memory, but Snape looked away. His cheeks were slightly flushed, though.

_Why did he let his shields down like that?_

_It had to be an accident._

_How's that possible?_

Harry looked at Snape who seemed to be very concentrated on his carrots. Dumbledore looked very curious, though.

Harry was confused, embarrassed and, unfortunately, hard again.

_WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Okay, so I'll just concentrate on something else. I'm not hard I'm not hard I'm not hard I'm just confused. I'm still hard. That was disgusting, really, seeing myself like that. Snape has to be disgusted. Very disgusted. But he was hard. And fucking hell, why am I STILL hard? I bet he's not. But he was. It's only a 'natural reaction' — it had nothing to do with me. That's good, right? Of course it's good. Did he think about it? Is that why the memory surfaced? No. He didn't think about it. I shouldn't think about it._

_I command myself not to have an erection._

_Oh well, that's probably what Snape thought this morning._

Harry tried to join the conversation. They talked about Christmas, about Hagrid's new pets, about something else but Harry was painfully aware of Dumbledore's curious eyes, his own arousal and Snape's impassiveness.

Snape ate quickly and left without saying a word to Harry.

Harry watched him go.

* * *

**A/N osa 2 suomalaisille lukiojoilleni / for the FINNISH READERS **(jippijee, teitä vaikuttaa olevan jopa 2!)

Mitä tykkäätte? Kertokaa ihmeessä. En voinu vastustaa kun huomasin, että joku suomalainenkin on eksynyt lukemaan tätä. Jeejee! :)


	12. Still Here For You

**A/N: **I'm so so so **sorry** it's taken so long! Please forgive me. And THANK YOU for the reviews! You have no idea how happy they make me :)

Anistiasia, Nayannibal and Guest: I'm so glad you liked it! I was like AM I DOING THIS RIGHT AM I DOING THIS RIGHT so it seems I was. Glad to succeed with the tension! I loved to write it! There'll be more in the future, I promise!

Godiva9: Thanks for reviewing again! :) Glad you liked it. And I've FINALLY defeated the flu which means I have the energy to write... Not going to sleep any time soon :D

mooree: I love your reviews! And... you're clever. There's kind of an answer in this chapter. And thanks. Oh, it feels so good to do something else than just cough all the time.

Kirsu: Ihanaa, että kommentoit joka tapauksessa :) Epäkunnollinenkin palaute käy hyvin! Arvostan sitä hirveesti, että ihmiset vaivautuu kommentoimaan. Saa kommentoida jatkossakin!

Now — finally — here's the chapter!

xx

* * *

**Chapter 12: Still Here For You**

_What did just happen?_

It had NEVER happened before. Well, of course it had, but that had been a very long time ago. And with a very skilled Legilimens.

_I have to see Albus now._

_He's still at dinner._

_FUCK THIS SHIT._

Severus started replaying the happenings of the dinner in his mind. First, Potter had been terribly awkward (_can't blame him for that, can I?_) and Severus had had some… difficulties with NOT thinking about the morning (_I am thinking about it again_) and then Potter had looked at him and looked too… well, too something he should not have looked like (_that is not the fucking point_!) and when their eyes had met, Severus' shields had completely… melted.

_I am supposed to be a professional Occlumens! I am not someone into whose mind a seventeen-year-old boy can look into just like that! _

Except he was.

Potter had seen into his mind so clearly, so… _easily _that it could not have been intentional.

_It must be the damn connection._

But Severus had never read about such connections. Sure, there were mind-connections but not ones that should break down the shields of a mind. Sometimes mind magic could form strange, strong connections — connections that were close to telepathy. But still, not like this. And those extreme connections were usually shared by people that were… intimate… with each other.

And even more strangely, the memory had been too… real. Severus was quite sure he had _felt _the memory some way. Felt the heat, the arousal, the emotions. And seen it all reflected in the brat's eyes.

_I really need to see Albus._

There was a knock on Severus' door.

He sighed and got up only to notice that Erika was standing there.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Severus said.

"Don't lie to me, Severus Snape. You're a bad liar for a spy."

"Come in, then," Severus said, rolling his eyes. "It's just… Well basically, I'm fucked up."

Erika looked at him for a moment. Then, without any further hesitation, she said: "Now sit down and I'll get the firewhiskey."

"Isn't it a bit too early for that?"

"Hmmm… No. Judging by the look on your face, I don't think so." She grinned and summoned the drink ("accio Severus' finest firewhiskey") and the glasses. After pouring a generous amount of the liquid to the glass, she gave it to Severus. "Now talk."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Where to start?"

"From the beginning, I recommend."

"Potter is making me crazy."

"Nothing new about that," Erika said, smirking.

"True. Only this time, it's… different. You know I teach him Occlumency."

"Mm-hmm."

"Well, I think there is this… connection. A strong one. Too FUCKING strong. He just got through my shields."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that the boy entered my mind during Christmas dinner without _any _difficulties. I do not think it was even intentional."

"I see why you're so concerned," Erika said, sipping her drink. "Do you want to let him in?"

"NO."

"Be honest with me."

"I DO NOT WANT TO LET HIM IN. It is the other way around. The boy seems to… enjoy… having me… inside… his mind."

"That does not explain the situation," Erika said.

"I know," Severus sighed. "It's just…"

There was another knock on the door.

"Who is it," Severus snapped.

"It's me, my dear boy. I was just wondering if you maybe had a minute."

Severus opened the door.

"Ah, Erika. Happy Christmas again. To both of you. Might I borrow Severus for a moment?"

"Of course," Erika said, smiling. "I'll drop by later." With that, she left.

"So. Severus," Albus addressed. "Might I ask why you are so upset?"

"I am not upset."

"Surely you are," the annoying old man said, summoning a glass to himself and taking some firewhiskey as well.

"It. Is. Potter."

"I figured it might be," Albus said, smiling.

"He got into my mind."

"I thought so."

"WHAT?"

"Wel, isn't it only natural? You must have become quite… close. In a way."

"We certainly have not."

"Well, maybe you wish that to happen."

"Nonsense," Severus spat, pouring himself another, generous glass of firewhiskey.

"It is the only possible explanation," Albus said. "Would you mind telling about the connection?"

And Severus did. He tried to tell about it in detail but noticed he left some parts out. Like what had happened in the morning. Or the night before. Albus did not need to know about those painfully awkward incidents. It took some time but finally Severus had told everything that he considered important.

"It is not normal."

"What about it isn't," the Headmaster asked, eyes twinkling as always.

"_Anything _about it. The whole connection is absurd. I most certainly DO NOT WANT Harry Potter anywhere near my mind."

"I'm not so sure about that, my dear boy." There was a clear smile. And that twinkle.

"Well, Albus, I AM. I am abso-_fucking_-lutely clear about the fact. Potter is a premature imbecile. He is nothing but a-"

"Point taken, Severus," Albus said but smiled still slyly. "But there's nothing to worry about, I'm sure. The connection is exclusively between you and young Harry. It does not weaken your defences. In fact, it could do the opposite."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Don't you always. But really, you should try to… consider… the boy again. I say this as a friend. You should really look at him (_definitely NOT, S_everus thought, _I should STOP looking_) differently. He has matured. And he is her mother's son, Severus."

"Yes, yes. And his father's as well. He is an insufferable, arrogant imbecile who cannot even learn Occlymency — who doesn't even _want to _learn Occlumency, in fact. Or so it seems. Potter is very mature, Albus. Very mature, indeed."

Albus' smile grew wider.

"Stop that," Severus demanded.

"Stop what," Albus asked.

"Grinning like an idiot."

"Oh," Albus said, smiling even wider, if possible. "I had no idea it bothered you."

Severus merely rolled his eyes.

"Happy Christmas," he snarled.

"Same to you, my dear boy."

* * *

Harry sat on his bed, about to _finally _open the gifts he had gotten.

Rock cakes from Hagrid.

A jumper from. Mrs. Weasley.

A bag full off Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products from the twins.

There were other packets, too, but what Harry noticed then was not a gift. It was a letter (_what's this?_) from Ginny.

Harry opened the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Christmas! This is hard to say so I'm just gonna blurt it out._

_I think we should break up._

_Now, I've thought about this a LOT. You know I love you very, very much. I do. You're one of my best friends and more, in a way. Not in a romantic way, though, I think. I mean, we work so well as friends! We were supposed to be the perfect couple! Everybody thinks we are. Or thought. I dunno anymore. And it was only natural with Ron and Hermione and all and wouldn't mum just LOVE it if we go married? But we're not a perfect couple, right? We are quite the anti-perfect couple. I mean, I don't mean to offend you or anything but I think that neither of us is happy right now._

_We're not making each other happy._

_I think we're ruining something very great by being __like th__ i__nvolv __well, together. I hope you agree with me. _

_I'd like to go back to the time when we could talk about __everything__. Don't you miss it?_

_And I miss you. I miss you so much. I think you're so far away, if you know what I mean. And I'm, too. It's just not… right._

_I do love you, though. Really. I already said that a dozen times, right?_

_I hope we can talk after the holidays. I've really given much thought to all this and I hope sending this letter is the right thing to do. I just wanted to give you some time to think. We really MUST talk. I hope you're not upset. And if you are, I hope you'll tell me. I NEED you to tell me._

_Writing this is so fucked up. The whole thing is so fucked up._

_This is neither as coherent nor as mature as I wished (don't you love that sentence)._

_Happy Christmas._

_Ginny_

_P.S. I ALMOST forgot! I bought your present with Hermione and she thought… Um, well. You'll see. And I thought so, too. I hope we're not totally wrong with this. And if we are, please LAUGH and don't be angry._

_Just wanted you to know I'm still here for you._


End file.
